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THE    FIRST    EDITION    OF   THIS 

BOOK   CONSISTS   OF    THREE 

THOUSAND   NUMBERED    COPIES 

THIS   IS   NUMBER    7*1.1. 


NANA 


UNIFORM  WITH  THIS  VOLUME 


MADAME  BOVARY 

BY  GUSTAVE    FLAUBERT 

Translated  from  the  French 

by  ELEANOR  MARX-AVELINQ 

With  an  Introduction 

by  BURTON  RASCOE 

MANON  LESCAUT 

BY   THE   ABBE   PREVOST 

Translated  from  the  French 
With  an  Introduction 
by  BUBTON  RASCOE 

MLLE.  DE  MAUPIN 

BY  THEOPHILE   GAUTIER 

Translated  from  the  French 

With  an  Introduction 

by  BURTON  RASCOE 

GERMINIE  LACERTEUX 

BY   EDMOND   &   JULES   DE   GONCOURT 

Translated  from  the  French 

With  an  Introduction 

by  ERNEST  BOTD 


N  A  N  A 


BY 

EMILE  ZOLA 

Translated  from  the  French. 
V/iih  an  Introduction 

by  BURTON  RASCOE 


NEW  YORK 

ALFRED  '  A  '  KNOPF 

1922 


COPYRIGHT,  1922,  BY 
ALFRED  A.  KNOPF,  INC. 

Published  October,  1922 


BEFLAC1NQ 


Composition,  electrotyping,  printing  and  binding  by 

The  Plimpton  Press,  Norwood,  Mass. 
Paper  supplied  by  W.  F.  Etheringlon  &•  Co.,  New  York,  N.  7. 

MANUFACTURED  IN  THE  UNITED  STATES  OF  AMERICA 


INTRODUCTION 
I 

IN  any  appreciation  of  Emile  Zola  it  is  well  to  admit  first  of  all 
that  he  was  lacking  in  taste,  discrimination,  selection,  vision, 
a  sense  of  form,  indeed,  in  almost  everything  we  have  come  to 
deem  requisite  in  an  artist.  But,  having  admitted  so  much,  we 
must  also  be  prepared  to  acknowledge  that  he  was  a  man  of  a 
kind  of  genius,  a  conspicuous  and  in  many  ways  a  great  novelist, 
and  that  he  exerted  a  profound  and  lasting  influence  upon  the  de- 
velopment of  literature.  Thus  it  comes  about  that  even  while 
execrating  him,  critics  have  paid  tribute,  if  only  by  the  heat  of 
their  disparagement,  to  the  peculiar  and  particular  genius  that 
was  his.  Their  protests  have  been  like  the  expressions  of  horror 
on  the  part  of  the  righteous  but  knowing  at  the  thought  of  what 
a  spectacle  a  respectable  woman,  slightly  intoxicated,  might  make 
of  herself  with  one  more  heady  cocktail  in  her  system.  Zola  was 
a  boorish  and  heavy-handed  seducer  who  urged  upon  the  novel 
a  very  raw  and  potent  drink.  The  result  was  not  pretty  or  de- 
corous: it  was,  often,  shocking,  pitiable  and  disgusting;  grace, 
modesty  and  restraint  were,  for  the  moment,  in  abeyance;  skirts 
crawled  in  careless,  unkempt  angles  past  the  knees  under  the  re- 
laxed, indifferent  posture,  and  unpleasant  things  came  from  half 
articulate  babblings  from  loose  lips  and  a  freed  subconscious. 
But  the  episode  showed  that  life,  even  in  fiction,  might  be  of  the 
earth  earthy  and  that  beneath  the  enameled  exterior  of  cultural 
standards  and  refinements,  there  exists  a  heritage  of  animality 
that  does  not,  cannot,  die,  so  long  as  life  lasts,  for  it  is,  in  the  ulti- 
mate, the  motivating  force  of  even  the  highest  aspirations  of 
life  itself. 

It  is  true,  of  course,  that  in  art  as  in  life,  we  make  every  effort 
to  forget  this.  We  try  to  become  gods  by  the  na'ive  and  splendid 
process  of  denying  that  we  are  mortal  flesh  and  blood;  and  in 
this  effort  we  achieve  what  is,  or  what  we  agree  to  be,  the  divine 


M7719G9 


INTRODUCTION 

and  ineffable  quality  of  life,  —  that  beauty  which  is  but  a  mirror 
of  our  aspirations  and  of  the  fine  high  seriousness  of  our  dis- 
content with  the  galling  truth  of  living.  But,  by  a  too  insistent 
employment  of  this  process  of  denial,  while  we  have,  perhaps, 
laid  up  treasures  for  ourselves  in  heaven,  yet,  at  the  same  time, 
we  have  made  much  trouble  for  ourselves  on  earth.  Out  of  a  fre- 
quency of  repetition  we  come  to  believe  our  fictions;  and  with 
the  facts  denying  them  in  our  own  case,  we  come  to  suspect 
that  each  of  us  is  damned  and  others  saved,  that  somehow  we  are 
endowed  less  plentifully  with  the  divine  essence  which  enhaloes 
certain  of  our  neighbors,  and  that  we  are  clods  while  they  have 
wings.  And  this  is  not  good  for  our  souls.  The  greatest  thing  in 
the  world,  probably,  is  re-assurance,  for  it  alone  enables  us  to 
fight  against  the  odds  of  life,  to  follow  a  vanishing  hope,  and  to 
dislodge  the  stars,  now  and  then,  with  our  uplifted  heads.  We 
cannot  be  re-assured  by  abasing  ourselves  with  the  false  impres- 
sion that  we  are  denied  a  spiritual  quality  others  possess. 

It  was  Zola's  talent  to  re-assure  us  by  showing  us  phases  of 
life  which,  we  flatter  ourselves,  is  less  beautiful,  more  earthy, 
more  wretched  than  our  own.  He  is  a  great  disillusionist,  a  sort 
of  scourge,  an  Attila  or  a  chief  of  the  Visigoths  terribly  laying 
waste  fictions  grown  soft  and  decadent  through  an  excess  of 
culture.  He  goes  about  his  radical  prophylaxis  in  a  brutal  and 
peremptory  fashion.  He  uses  coarse  and  vulgar  words.  He  is 
not  gentle  or  pitying  or  sympathetic.  He  does  not  undress  men 
and  women:  he  tears  and  strips  their  clothing  from  them.  He 
violates  what  we  are  pleased  to  call  the  sanctity  of  privacy.  He 
shows  us  hidden  sores  and  infections,  malformations,  blights, 
bruises  and  corruption.  He  washes  away  the  rouge  and  mascara; 
he  obliterates  the  pleasing  surfaces  of  the  elaborate  toilette  and 
vain  primpings  of  life.  He  was  one  of  the  first  great  diagnos- 
ticians to  pronounce  upon  the  nature  of  the  maladies  which  cor- 
rupt the  social  body.  It  is  possible  that  he  made  mistakes,  that 
he  exaggerated,  that,  like  all  specialists  in  pathology,  he  had  an 
obsession  with  certain  odious  diseases  and  that  he  often  found 
them  where  they  did  not,  actually,  exist.  But  he  did  not  err  on 
the  side  of  optimism  or  on  the  side  of  a  fatuous  denial  of  the 
presence  of  wasting  and  degenerating  forces. 

It  takes  a  poet,  often,  to  crystallize  in  cameo  the  sum  of  an 
achievement.  Edwin  Arlington  Robinson  has  done  this  in  regard 


INTRODUCTION 

to  Zola.  He  has  written  a  sonnet  addressed  to  the  novelist  and 
it  is,  at  the  same  time,  a  sharp  and  just  invective  against  Zola's 
enemies : 

Because  he  puts  the  compromising  chart 
Of  hell  before  your  eyes,  you  are  afraid; 
Because  he  counts  the  price  that  you  have  paid 
For  innocence,  and  counts  it  from  the  start, 
You  loathe  him.    But  he  sees  the  human  heart 
Of  God  meanwhile,  and  in  His  hand  was  weighed 
Your  squeamish  and  emasculate  crusade 
Against  the  grim  dominion  of  his  art.  — 

Never  until  we  conquer  the  uncouth 
Connivings  of  our  shamed  indifference 
(We  call  it  Christian  faith)  are  we  to  scan 
The  racked  and  shrieking  hideousness  of  Truth 
To  find  in  Hate's  polluted  self-defense 
Throbbing,  the  pulse,  the  divine  heart  of  Man. 

This  sonnet  gives  completely  and  superbly  the  real  and  final 
justification  for  Zola.  He  was  a  great  human  event.  He  was  a 
moralist  in  his  strange,  uncouth  fashion.  He  saw  life  realisti- 
cally, perhaps  a  little  astigmatically,  but  without  illusions.  He 
helped  vastly  to  make  it  possible  for  literature  to  entertain  a 
more  virile  attitude  toward  the  less  romantic  aspects  of  life  and 
to  take  cognizance  of  vice,  crime,  and  the  plagues  of  the  under- 
world as  material  for  sincere  and  truthful  treatment.  That 
is  why  many  who  were  first  repelled  were  later  attracted  by  him. 
That  is  why  George  Moore  came  to  denounce  and  remained  to 
imitate  him.  That  is  why  the  wise  and  gentle  Anatole  France 
was  able  to  revise  his  first  impressions  and  to  seem  to  change 
from  disgust  to  admiration.  When  "La  Terre"  was  published, 
France  wrote  of  Zola:  "His  work  is  evil  and  he  is  one  of  those  un- 
happy beings  of  whom  one  can  say  that  it  would  be  better 
had  he  never  been  born.  I  will  not,  certainly,  deny  his  detest- 
able fame.  No  one  before  him  has  raised  so  lofty  a  pile  of  ordure. 
That  is  his  monument,  and  its  greatness  cannot  be  disputed.  Never 
has  man  made  a  similar  effort  to  debase  humanity,  to  insult 
all  images  of  beauty  and  love,  to  deny  all  that  is  good  and  all 
that  is  worthy."  Nothing  could  well  be  more  harsh  than  these 
words.  Yet,  some  time  later,  we  discover  that  while  France 


INTRODUCTION 

loathed,  he  loved.  He  wrote:  "I  confide  it  to  you  in  a  whisper: 
I'Assommoir  delighted  me.  I  have  read  ten  times  and  with  un- 
mixed joy  the  marriage  of  Coupeau,  the  feast  of  the  goose,  and 
Nana's  first  communion.  They  are  admirable  pictures,  full  of 
color,  movement  and  life." 

II 

Yes,  there  are  in  Zola's  novels  admirable  pictures,  full  of 
s  color,  movement  and  life.  The  explanation  is  simple:  he  re- 
mained faithful  to  his  formula  of  recording  with  exactitude  that 
which  met  his  eye.  "Art,"  he  said,  "is  nature  jeen  through  a 
'  temperament."  That  is  as  good  a  definition  as  any\ IrfZoIa's 
case,  we""must  confess,  it  was  nature  seen  through  a  very  ordi- 
nary and  prosaic  temperament;  but  then,  that  fact,  too,  gave 
to  his  work  a  hint  of  uniqueness.  The  point  is  that  hitherto 
the  temperaments  of  novelists  had  been  special  and  precious, 
volatile  and  poetic,  imaginative  and  idealistic.  Zola's  tempera- 
ment lacked  these  attributes:  it  is  the  temperament  of  common- 
sense,  of  bourgeois  solidity,  matter-of-factness,  and  patient 
industry.  You  have  but  to  imagine  your  corner  butcher  as 
going  in  suddenly  for  novel-writing  to  realize  the  temperament, 
the  tone,  the  vision  that  Zola  brought  to  the  business  of  litera- 
ture. You  need  not  concede  that  your  butcher  must  be  more 
than  literate,  for  Zola  prided  himself  upon  his  literary  ignorance. 
He  had  read  practically  nothing  when  he  took  up  the  profession 
of  writing  and  throughout  his  life  he  was  in  desperate  fear  lest 
he  encounter  a  work  of  literature  which  would  alter  his  point  of 
view  or  influence  his  style.  To  this  end  he  avoided  in  his  pro- 
ductive years  reading  anything  except  the  daily  newspapers 
and  books  of  reference  and  information.  The  result  was  that 
Zola  was  Zola,  an  unscholarly  and  unpoetic  middle-class  man  of 
vast  energy  and  set  opinions  who  wrote  elaborately  and  minutely 
documented  novels  which  stand  beside  Balzac's  in  their  historic 
veracity  as  revelations  of  the  life  of  the  French  race  and  the 
generality  of  mankind.  Possessing  the  average  man's  vision, 
writing  in  the  average  man's  idiom,  presenting  what  the  average 
man  sees  just  as  he  sees  it,  Zola  became  and  remained  the  most 
popular  novelist  in  France,  and  one  of  the  most  widely  read 
novelists  the  world  has  produced. 


INTRODUCTION 

Even  the  way  in  which  he  went  at  his  work  is  in  character 
and  revelatory.  He  was  without  inspiration  beyond  that  in- 
spiration that  comes  to  a  journalist.  He  depended  almost  not 
at  all  on  plot;  he  was  only  faintly  interested  in  the  delicate  inter- 
play of  character,  the  clash  of  wills  in  their  less  melodramatic 
aspect,  or  the  irony  of  fate.  He  did  not  patiently  await  the  right 
word.  Every  morning  he  sat  down  to  his  desk  and  wrote  a  definite 
number  of  pages  toward  a  new  novel.  He  permitted  himself 
to  rest  on  Sundays  and  holidays  and  he  had  hours  in  the  late 
afternoon  for  interviewers  and  guests.  The  remainder  of  his 
time,  not  taken  up  in  eating  and  sleeping,  he  devoted  to  the 
accumulation  and  ordering  of  data  which  he  was  to  put  into  his 
novels  in  his  mania  for  exactitude.  He  sought  to  give  his  readers 
a  precise  idea  of  the  milieu  of  the  theater  by  exact  descriptions 
of  an  existing  theater,  a  faithful  record  of  language  employed 
by  stage-hands,  managers,  rich  backers,  and  actresses.  He 
plowed  through  trade  journals  and  catalogues,  slang  diction- 
aries and  advertisements  for  words  associated  with  the  par- 
ticular thing  he  wished  to  present.  This  passion  for  photographic 
certitude  has  made  streets  and  landmarks,  the  very  geography 
of  Paris,  known  to  thousands  of  readers  in  America,  Russia, 
Sweden  and  elsewhere  who  have  never  seen  and  will  possibly 
never  see  the  city.  His  patient  descriptions  of  people,  his  lengthy 
and  repetitious  insistence  upon  their  peculiarities  and  charac- 
teristics, made  the  more  impressive  to  the  memory  by  the  frank- 
ness of  his  vocabulary  and  the  frequent  indelicacy  of  his  ob- 
servations, have  made  the  figures  of  his  novels  as  well  and  as 
generally  known  as  Balzac's. 

Necessity  drove  Zola  into  the  profession  of  novel  writing. 
At  the  age  of  twenty-five  he  was  earning  only  forty  cents  a  day 
and  living  with  his  mother  and  Paul  Cezanne,  the  painter,  in 
the  Rue  Saint- Victor.  Abject  poverty  made  it  necessary  for 
him  to  part  with  his  mother,  who  found  work  as  a  seamstress. 
He  lived  on  bread,  cheese,  fruit,  and  water,  deprived  himself 
of  tobacco  and  all  luxuries.  One  after  another  of  his  pawnable 
possessions  went  to  the  usurer  for  bare  necessities.  Finally  he 
found  work  with  the  publishing  firm  of  Hachette  as  a  packer  at 
100  francs  a  month.  This  connection  with  the  firm  gave  him  a 
tentative  confidence  in  himself  as  a  writer.  He  had  talked  of 
life,  art  and  literature  with  Cezanne  on  long  evenings  when 

Cxi] 


INTRODUCTION 

they  were  both  young  and  full  of  hope  and  ambition.  (Pos- 
sibly Cezanne's  influence  upon  him  has  never  been  duly  empha- 
sized, or  for  that  matter  Zola's  influence  upon  Cezanne.)  .  .  . 
One  day  Zola  showed  his  employer  a  collection  of  poems  he  had 
written.  The  elder  Hachette  did  not  think  well  enough  of  them 
to  bring  them  out  but  was  impressed  enough  to  increase  Zola's 
salary  to  200  francs  a  month  and  to  give  him  work  as  a  reader. 
It  was  in  this  employ  that  he  made  up  his  mind  to  become  a 
novelist.  He  dedicated  to  the  profession  an  indomitable  and 
business-like  enthusiasm  .  .  .  "Nana"  stands  third  in  popu- 
larity among  the  Zola  novels.  It  is  a  study  of  the  prostitute 
type  and  it  gives  a  memorable  picture  of  the  life  of  the  tinsel 
underworld  of  the  Paris  theaters,  night  life,  and  its  parasites. 
Perhaps  Zola  pursues  Nana  a  bit  too  relentlessly:  certainly  his 
putting  a  period  to  her  career  by  showing  her  as  a  putrefying 
corpse  is  more  symbolic  than  is  wholly  necessary;  but  it  remains 
a  novel  of  truth  and  beauty,  even  if  a  beauty  of  a  drab  and  often 
terrible  sort. 

BURTON  RASCOE 

New  York  City 
August  14,  1922 


NANA 


NANA 


CHAPTER  I 

AT  nine  o'clock  the  Variety  Theatre  was  still  almost  empty. 
In  the  balcony  and  orchestra  stalls  a  few  persons  waited, 
lost  amidst  the  garnet-coloured  velvet  seats,  in  the  faint 
light  of  the  half  extinguished  gasalier.  The  huge  crimson  cur- 
tain was  enveloped  in  shadow,  and  not  a  sound  came  from  the 
stage  behind.  The  foot-lights  were  not  yet  lit  up,  and  the  seats 
of  the  musicians  were  unoccupied.  High  up,  however,  in  the 
third  gallery,  close  to  the  roof  —  displaying  figures  of  naked  women 
and  children  floating  among  clouds,  to  which  the  gas  imparted 
a  greenish  tinge  —  were  heard  the  sounds  of  shouts  and  laughter 
above  a  continual  hum  of  conversation,  and  a  crowd  of  men  and 
women,  all  wearing  the  caps  of  the  working  classes,  were  seated 
in  rows  reaching  almost  to  the  gilded  festoons  of  the  ceiling.  Now 
and  again  an  attendant  would  appear,  fussily  conducting  a  lady 
and  gentleman  to  their  seats  —  the  gentleman  in  evening  dress, 
and  the  lady  slim  and  slightly  stooping,  and  glancing  slowly  over 
the  house.  Two  young  men  suddenly  appeared  in  the  stalls  close 
to  the  orchestra.  They  remained  standing,  looking  round  about 
them. 

"What  did  I  tell  you,  Hector?"  exclaimed  the  elder  —  a  tall 
fellow,  with  a  slight,  black  moustache.  "We  have  come  too 
early.  You  might  just  as  well  have  allowed  me  to  finish  my  cigar." 

An  attendant  passed  by  at  this  moment.  "Oh!  M.  Fauchery," 
she  said  familiarly,  "it  will  not  begin  for  half  an  hour." 

"Then  why  on  earth  do  they  say  nine  o'clock  on  the  bills?" 
asked  Hector,  whose  long,  thin  face  assumed  an  expression  of 
intense  annoyance.  "This  very  morning  Clarisse,  who  is  in  the 
piece,  assured  me  that  the  curtain  would  go  up  at  nine,  precisely." 

For  a  minute  they  relapsed  into  silence,  as  they  raised  their 
heads  and  gazed  into  the  shadows  of  the  boxes;  but  the  green 

CO 


NANA 

paper,  with  which  the  latter  were  lined,  made  them  obscurer  still. 
Below,  the  small  boxes  under  the  balcony  disappeared  in  total 
darkness.  In  the  balcony  boxes  only  a  very  stout  lady,  leaning 
heavily  on  the  velvet  covered  balustrade  was  to  be  seen.  To 
the  right  and  the  left,  between  high  columns,  the  stage  boxes, 
hung  with  drapery  deeply  fringed,  remained  empty.  The  body 
of  the  house,  decorated  in  white  and  gold,  relieved  by  pale  green, 
seemed  to  disappear  filled  as  it  was  with  a  misty  haze  arising  from 
the  subdued  light  emanating  from  the  huge  crystal  gasalier. 

"Did  you  succeed  in  securing  a  stage-box  for  Lucy?"  asked 
Hector. 

"Yes,"  replied  the  other,  "but  not  without  a  deal  of  trouble. 
Oh!  there  is  no  danger  of  Lucy's  coming  too  early  —  not  she!" 
He  stifled  a  yawn,  and  then,  after  a  brief  silence,  resumed;  "You 
are  lucky,  you  who  have  never  yet  been  present  at  a  first  night. 
'The  Blonde  Venus'  will  be  the  success  of  the  year.  Every  one 
has  been  speaking  of  the  piece  for  six  months  past.  Ah!  my  boy, 
such  music  —  such  'go'!  Bordenave,  who  knows  what's  what, 
kept  it  purposely  for  the  time  of  the  Exhibition." 

Hector  listened  religiously.  At  length  he  hazarded  a  question: 
"And  Nana  —  the  new  star  who  is  to  play  Venus  —  do  you 
know  her?" 

"Oh,  hang  it!  are  you  going  to  begin  that  too?"  exclaimed 
Fauchery,  gesticulating  wildly.  "  Ever  since  this  morning  I  have 
heard  of  nothing  but  Nana.  I  have  met  more  than  twenty  fellows 
I  know,  and  it  has  been  Nana  here  and  Nana  there !  Do  you  sup- 
pose I  know  every  petticoat  in  Paris?  Nana  is  one  of  Bordenave's 
inventions.  She  must  be  something  choice!" 

After  this  explosion  he  calmed  down  a  little.  But  the  empti- 
ness of  the  house,  the  dim  light  that  pervaded  the  whole,  the 
opening  and  shutting  of  doors,  and  the  hushed  voices  suggestive 
of  a  church,  irritated  him. 

"Confound  it!"  he  said,  suddenly.  "I  can't  stand  this,  you 
know.  I  must  go  out.  Perhaps  we  shall  meet  Bordenave  below. 
He  will  give  us  some  details." 

In  the  marble  paved  vestibule,  where  the  box-office  was  situated, 
they  found  the  public  beginning  to  arrive.  Through  the  three 
open  doors  all  the  busy  throng  on  the  Boulevards  could  be  seen 
enjoying  the  beautiful  April  evening.  Carriages  dashed  up  to 
the  theatre,  and  the  doors  were  slammed  noisily.  People  entered 

CO" 


NANA 

by  twos  and  threes,  and,  after  stopping  at  the  box-office,  ascended 
the  double  staircase  in  the  rear  —  the  women  walking  slowly 
with  a  swinging  gait.  In  the  glare  of  the  gas  were  pasted,  on 
the  naked  walls  of  this  hall,  whose  meagre  decorations  in  the 
style  of  the  Empire  suggested  the  peristyle  of  a  card-board  temple, 
some  enormous  yellow  posters,  in  which  Nana's  name  appeared 
in  huge  black  letters.  Men  were  loitering  in  front  of  these  bills 
as  they  read  them,  while  others  were  standing  about  talking  among 
themselves,  and  blocking  up  the  doorways;  whilst  near  the  box- 
office  a  thick-set  man,  with  a  big,  clean-shaved  face,  was  roughly 
replying  to  some  people  who  were  in  vain  endeavouring  to  obtain 
seats. 

"There's  Bordenave!"  said  Fauchery,  as  he  and  Hector  de- 
scended the  stairs. 

But  the  manager  had  caught  sight  of  him.  "You  are  a  nice 
fellow"  he  called  out.  "That  is  the  way  you  write  me  a  notice, 
is  it?  I  opened  the  'Figaro'  this  morning  —  not  a  word." 

"Wait  a  bit,"  replied  Fauchery.  "I  must  see  your  Nana 
before  I  can  write  about  her.  Besides,  I  made  no  promise!" 

Then,  to  prevent  further  discussion,  he  presented  his  cousin, 
M.  Hector  de  la  Faloise,  a  young  man  who  had  come  to  com- 
plete his  education  in  Paris.  The  manager  weighed  the  young 
man  at  a  glance;  but  Hector  surveyed  the  manager  with  some 
little  emotion.  This  then  was  Bordenave,  the  exhibitor  of  women, 
whom  he  treated  in  the  style  of  a  prison  warder,  and  whose 
brain  was  ever  hatching  some  fresh  money-making  scheme  — 
a  perfect  cynic,  always  shouting,  or  spitting,  or  smacking  his 
thighs,  and  possessing  the  coarse  mind  of  a  trooper!  Hector  was 
anxious  to  make  a  good  impression  on  him. 

"Your  theatre  -  "  he  began,  in  clear,  musical  tones. 

Bordenave  interrupted  him  quietly,  and  said,  with  the  cool- 
ness of  a  man  who  prefers  to  call  things  by  their  right  names: 
"Say  my  brothel,  rather." 

Fauchery  laughed  approvingly,  but  La  Faloise  was  shocked 
to  a  degree,  and  his  meditated  compliment  stuck  in  his  throat, 
as  he  endeavoured  to  look  as  though  he  appreciated  the  joke. 
The  manager  had  rushed  off  to  shake  hands  with  a  dramatic 
critic  whose  criticisms  had  great  influence,  and,  when  he  returned, 
La  Faloise  had  almost  recovered  himself.  He  feared  lest  he  should 
be  regarded  as  a  provincial  if  he  appeared  too  much  disconcerted. 

C33 


NANA 

"I  have  been  told,"  he  began,  wishing  at  any  rate  to  say 
something,  "that  Nana  has  a  delicious  voice." 

"She!"  cried  the  manager,  shrugging  his  shoulders —  "she 
has  no  more  voice  than  a  squirt." 

The  young  man  hastened  to  add:  "Besides,  she  is  an  excel- 
lent actress." 

"She!  —  a  regular  lump!  She  never  knows  where  to  put  her 
hands  or  her  feet." 

La  Faloise  coloured  slightly.  He  was  at  a  loss  what  to  under- 
stand. He  managed  to  stammer  out:  "On  no  account  would  I 
have  missed  this  first  night.  I  know  that  your  theatre  - 

"Say  my  brothel,"  interrupted  Bordenave  again,  with  the 
cool  obstinacy  of  a  man  thoroughly  convinced. 

Meanwhile  Fauchery  had  been  calmly  examining  the  women  as 
they  entered.  He  now  came  to  his  cousin's  assistance,  when  he 
saw  him  doubtful  whether  to  laugh  or  be  angry.  "Gratify 
Bordenave;  call  his  theatre  just  what  he  desires,  as  it  amuses 
him.  And  as  for  you,  my  dear  fellow,  you  need  not  try  to  fool 
us.  If  your  Nana  can't  sing  and  can't  play,  you  will  make 
a  regular  fiasco  of  it  to-night.  And  that  is  just  what  I  am 
expecting." 

"A  fiasco!  a  fiasco!"  exclaimed  the  manager,  whose  face  be- 
came purple  with  rage.  "  Is  it  necessary  for  a  woman  to  know  how 
to  sing  and  act?  Ah!  my  boy,  you  are  much  too  stupid.  Nana 
has  something  else,  damn  her!  and  something  that  will  make  up 
for  anything  she  may  lack.  I  scented  it,  and  she  has  plenty  of 
it,  or  I  have  only  the  nose  of  a  fool!  You  will  see,  you  will  see  - 
she  has  only  to  appear,  and  all  the  spectators  will  at  once 
smack  their  lips."  He  raised  his  big  hands,  which  trembled  with 
enthusiasm,  and  then,  lowering  his  voice,  murmured  to  himself, 
"Yes,  she  will  go  far  —  ah!  damn  her!  yes,  she  will  go  far.  A 
skin  —  oh,  such  a  skin!" 

Then,  in  answer  to  Fauchery's  questions,  he  condescended  to 
give  certain  details,  making  use  of  such  offensive  language  that 
he  quite  shocked  Hector.  He  had  become  acquainted  with 
Nana,  and  wished  to  bring  her  out;  and  it  so  happened  that  he 
was  in  want  of  a  Venus.  He  never  allowed  a  woman  to  hang  on 
to  him  very  long;  he  preferred  to  let  the  public  have  its  share 
of  her  at  once.  But  he  had  had  a  damnable  time  in  his  shop; 
the  arrival  of  this  great  hulking  girl  had  revolutionized  every- 


NANA 

thing.  Rose  Mignon,  his  star,  a  fine  actress  and  an  adorable 
singer,  threatened  daily  to  leave  him  in  the  lurch.  Divining 
a  rival  in  Nana  she  was  furious.  And  the  playbills  —  Deuce  take 
it!  what  a  row  they  had  caused.  However,  he  had  decided  to 
print  the  names  of  the  two  actresses  in  letters  of  equal  size.  They 
had  better  not  badger  him  too  much.  When  one  of  his  little 
women,  as  he  called  them,  Clarisse  or  Simone,  did  not  do  as 
she  was  told,  he  just  kicked  her  behind.  If  he  treated  them 
differently  they  would  never  leave  him  any  peace.  He  dealt 
in  them,  and  he  knew  what  they  were  worth,  the  hussies! 

"Ah!"  he  exclaimed,  interrupting  himself.  "There  come 
Mignon  and  Steiner!  They  are  always  together.  You  know 
that  Steiner  begins  to  have  had  enough  of  Rose;  so  the  husband 
sticks  to  him  like  a  plaster  lest  he  should  escape." 

The  flaring  gas  jets  running  along  the  cornice  of  the  theatre 
threw  a  sheet  of  vivid  light  over  the  footpath.  Two  small  trees 
stood  out  clearly  with  their  fresh  green  foliage,  and  a  pillar  was 
so  brilliantly  illuminated  by  the  blaze  of  light  that  the  bills 
posted  upon  it  could  be  read  at  a  distance  as  clearly  as  at  midday; 
whilst,  afar  off,  the  dense  darkness  of  the  Boulevards  was  studded 
with  multitudinous  lights,  revealing  the  surging  of  an  ever  moving 
crowd.  Many  of  the  men  did  not  enter  the  theatre  at  once,  but 
loitered  outside  to  finish  their  cigars  and  chat  under  the  gaslight, 
which  gave  a  livid  pallor  to  their  faces,  and  threw  their  shadows, 
short  and  black,  upon  the  asphalt  beneath.  Mignon,  a  tall, 
stout  fellow,  with  the  square  head  of  the  Hercules  of  a  travelling 
show,  shouldered  his  way  through  the  crowd,  dragging  on  his 
arm  the  banker  Steiner  —  a  short  man,  with  a  big  stomach  and 
a  round  face  fringed  with  a  greyish  beard. 

"Well!"  said  Bordenave  to  the  banker,  "you  saw  her  yester- 
day in  my  office." 

"Ah!  that  was  her,  was  it?"  exclaimed  Steiner.  "I 
thought  as  much.  Only,  I  was  going  out  as  she  entered;  I 
scarcely  saw  her."  » 

Mignon  listened  with  downcast  eyes,  all  the  time  nervously 
twisting  a  large  diamond  ring  on  his  little  finger.  He  knew  at 
once  that  they  were  talking  of  Nana.  Then  as  Bordenave  pro- 
ceeded to  give  a  description  of  his  new  star  which  caused  the 
banker's  eyes  to  sparkle,  he  decided  to  interfere. 

"That'll  do,  my  dear  fellow;  she's  not  worth  looking  at.    The 


NANA 

public  will  soon  send  her  to  the  right  about.  Steiner,  my  boy, 
you  know  that  my  wife  is  expecting  you  in  her  dressing- 
room." 

He  tried  to  lead  him  away,  but  Steiner  refused  to  leave  Borde- 
nave.  The  crowd  at  the  box-office  became  more  compact,  the 
buzz  of  voices  grew  louder,  and  the  name  of  Nana  was  repeated 
over  and  over  again  with  a  sing-song  enunciation  of  its  two  syl- 
lables. The  men,  standing  in  front  of  the  posters,  read  it  out  loud; 
others,  as  they  passed,  uttered  it  interrogatively,  while  the  women, 
smiling  and  uneasy,  repeated  it  softly  with  an  air  of  surprise. 
No  one  knew  Nana.  Where  on  earth  had  Nana  come  from? 
And  little  jokes  were  passed  about  from  ear  to  ear,  and  little  tales 
told.  The  very  name  sounded  like  a  caress,  and  fell  familiarly 
from  the  lips  of  every  one.  Its  constant  repetition  amused  the 
crowd  and  kept  it  in  a  good  humour.  A  fever  of  curiosity  took 
possession  of  everybody  —  that  Parisian  curiosity  which  is  some- 
times as  violent  as  an  attack  of  brain  fever.  All  were  eager  to 
see  Nana.  One  lady  had  the  train  of  her  dress  torn,  and  a  gentle- 
man lost  his  hat. 

"Ah!  you  ask  me  too  much,"  cried  Bordenave,  whom  twenty 
men  were  besieging  with  questions.  "You  will  see  her  presently. 
I  must  be  off,  they  are  waiting  for  me." 

He  disappeared,  radiant  at  having  inflamed  his  public.  Mig- 
non  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  reminded  Steiner  that  Rose 
was  expecting  him  to  show  him  her  costume  for  the  first  act. 

"Hallo!  there's  Lucy,  over  there,  getting  out  of  her  carriage," 
said  La  Faloise  to  Fauchery. 

It  was  in  fact  Lucy  Stewart  —  a  little,  ugly  woman  of  about 
forty,  with  a  neck  too  long,  a  thin,  drawn  face,  and  thick  lips, 
but  so  lively,  so  graceful,  that  she  charmed  every  one.  She 
was  accompanied  by  Caroline  Hequet  and  her  mother.  Caro- 
line with  her  frigid  beauty,  the  mother  very  stately,  and  looking 
as  if  she  were  stuffed. 

"You  are  coming  with  us,  of  course,"  she  said  to  Fauchery; 
"I  have  kept  a  place  for  you." 

"So  that  I  shall  see  nothing!  —  not  if  I  know  it!"  he  answered. 
"I  have  an  orchestra  stall;  I  prefer  to  be  there." 

Lucy  fired  up  at  once.  Was  he  afraid  to  be  seen  with  her? 
Then  suddenly  calming  down,  she  jumped  to  another  subject. 

"Why  did  you  never  tell  me  that  you  knew  Nana?" 

C63 


NANA 

"Nana!     I  never  saw  her!" 

"Is  that  really  true?  I  have  been  assured  that  you  once  slept 
with  her." 

But  Mignon,  who  was  in  front,  put  his  finger  to  his  lips  to 
signal  to  them  to  be  silent.  And  when  Lucy  asked  why,  he 
pointed  to  a  young  man  who  had  just  passed,  murmuring,  "Nana's 
sweetheart." 

They  all  stared  after  him.  He  was  certainly  very  good-look- 
ing. Fauchery  recognised  him:  his  name  was  Daguenet,  and  he 
had  squandered  a  fortune  of  three  hundred  thousand  francs  on 
women,  and  now  dabbled  in  stocks  in  order  to  make  a  little 
money  with  which  he  could  treat  them  to  an  occasional  bouquet 
and  dinner.  Lucy  thought  he  had  very  handsome  eyes. 

"Ah!  there's  Blanche!"  she  exclaimed.  "It  was  she  who  told 
me  that  you  had  slept  with  Nana." 

Blanche  de  Sivry,  a  heavy  blonde,  whose  pretty  face  was  getting 
too  fat,  arrived,  accompanied  by  a  slender,  well-dressed  man  with 
a  most  distinguished  air. 

"Count  Xavier  de  Vandeuvres,"  whispered  Fauchery  to  La 
Faloise. 

The  count  shook  hands  with  the  journalist,  whilst  a  lively 
discussion  took  place  between  Lucy  and  Blanche.  They  quite 
blocked  up  the  entry  with  their  skirts  covered  with  flounces, 
one  in  pink  and  the  other  in  blue,  and  Nana's  name  fell  from 
their  lips  so  frequently  that  the  crowd  lingered  to  listen.  The 
count  at  length  led  Blanche  away,  but  Nana's  name  did  not 
cease  to  resound  from  the  four  corners  of  the  vestibule  in  louder 
and  more  eager  tones.  Would  they  never  begin?  The  men 
pulled  out  their  watches,  late  comers  leaped  from  their  carriages 
before  they  really  drew  up,  and  the  groups  left  the  pavement, 
whilst  the  passers-by,  as  they  slowly  crossed  the  stream  of  light, 
stretched  their  necks  to  see  what  was  going  on  in  the  theatre. 
A  street  urchin  who  came  up  whistling,  stood  for  a  moment 
before  one  of  the  posters  at  the  door;  then,  in  a  drunken  voice 
shouted  out,  "Oh,  my!  Nana!"  and  reeled  on  his  way,  dragging 
his  old  shoes  along  the  asphalt.  People  laughed,  and  several 
well-dressed  gentlemen  repeated,  "Nana!  Oh,  my!  Nana!"  The 
crush  was  tremendous.  A  quarrel  broke  out  at  the  box-office, 
the  cries  for  Nana  increased;  one  of  those  stupid  fits  of  brutal 
excitement  common  to  crowds  had  taken  possession  of  this  mass 

C73 


NANA 

of  people.  Suddenly,  above  this  uproar,  the  sound  of  a  bell  was 
heard.  The  rumour  extended  to  the  Boulevards  that  the  curtain 
was  about  to  rise,  and  there  was  more  pushing  and  struggling; 
every  one  wished  to  get  in;  the  employes  of  the  theatre  were  at 
their  wits'  end.  Mignon,  looking  uneasy,  seized  hold  of  Steiner, 
who  had  not  been  to  inspect  the  dress  Rose  was  to  wear.  At  the 
first  tinkle  of  the  bell,  La  Faloise  pushed  through  the  crowd,  drag- 
ging Fauchery  with  him,  fearing  lest  he  should  miss  the  overture. 
Lucy  Stewart  was  irritated  by  all  these  demonstrations  of  eager- 
ness. What  vulgar  persons  to  push  ladies  about!  She  remained  to 
the  last  with  Caroline  Hequet  and  her  mother.  At  length  the 
vestibule  was  empty;  outside,  the  Boulevards  maintained  their 
prolonged  rumble. 

"As  if  their  pieces  were  always  funny!"  Lucy  kept  repeating 
as  she  ascended  the  stairs. 

Fauchery  and  La  Faloise  stood  in  their  places,  examining  the 
house,  which  was  now  very  brilliant.  The  crystal  gasalier  blazed 
with  prismatic  hues,  and  the  light  was  reflected  from  the  ceiling 
on  to  the  pit  like  a  shower  of  gold.  The  garnet-coloured  velvet 
of  the  seats  appeared  as  though  shot  with  lake,  whilst  the  glitter 
of  the  gilding  was  softened  by  the  decorations  of  pale  green  beneath 
the  coarse  paintings  of  the  ceiling.  The  foot-lights  blazed  upon 
the  crimson  curtain,  the  richness  of  which  suggested  the  most 
fabulous  of  palaces,  and  offered  a  melancholy  contrast  to  the 
poverty  of  the  frame,  the  crevices  in  which  showed  the  plaster 
beneath  the  gilding.  It  was  already  excessively  warm.  In  the 
orchestra  the  musicians  were  tuning  their  instruments,  and  the 
light  trills  of  the  flute,  the  stifled  sighs  of  the  horn,  the  singing 
notes  of  the  violin,  were  drowned  by  the  increasing  hum  of  voices. 
All  the  spectators  were  talking  together,  pushing  and  squeezing 
each  other  in  their  endeavours  to  reach  their  seats;  and  the  crush 
in  the  corridors  was  so  great  that  it  was  with  difficulty  the  doors 
gave  ingress  to  the  never-ceasing  flow  of  people.  Friends  nodded 
to  each  other  from  a  distance,  and  with  the  rustling  of  clothes 
came  a  procession  of  gay  costumes  and  headdresses,  broken  now 
and  again  by  a  black  dress  suit  or  a  dark  overcoat.  However, 
the  seats  were  gradually  filling;  here  and  there  appeared  a  bright 
coloured  robe,  and  a  head  with  a  delicate  profile  displayed  a 
chignon  on  which  sparkled  some  valuable  jewel.  In  one  of  the 
boxes  a  glimpse  was  caught  of  a  woman's  naked  shoulder,  seem- 


NANA 

ingly  as  white  as  ivory.  Other  women,  calmly  waiting,  fanned 
themselves  languidly  as  they  watched  the  surging  crowd;  while 
a  group  of  young  dandies  standing  in  the  orchestra  stalls  —  all 
shirt  front,  and  wearing  gardenias  in  their  button-holes  —  gazed 
through  their  opera-glasses,  which  they  held  with  the  tips  of  their 
daintily-gloved  fingers. 

Then  the  two  cousins  looked  around  in  search  of  acquaintances. 
Mignon  and  Steiner  sat  side  by  side  in  a  box,  with  their  arms  rest- 
ing on  the  velvet  balustrade.  Blanche  de  Sivry  appeared  to  be 
alone  in  one  of  the  stage-boxes.  But  La  Faloise  watched  more 
especially  Daguenet,  who  had  an  orchestra  stall  two  rows  in  front 
of  his.  Next  to  him  was  seated  a  youngster,  some  seventeen 
years  old,  just  fresh  from  college,  who  opened  his  cherub-like 
eyes  wide  with  delight.  Fauchery  smiled  as  he  caught  sight  of  him. 

"Who  is  that  lady  in  the  balcony?"  asked  La  Faloise,  sud- 
denly. "I  mean  the  one  who  has  a  young  girl  in  blue  next  her." 

He  directed  his  companion's  glance  to  a  woman  whose  stout 
figure  was  tightly  laced,  and  whose  once  blonde  hair,  now  grey, 
was  dyed  yellow,  whilst  her  round  puffed  face,  coloured  with 
rouge,  almost  disappeared  beneath  a  shower  of  little  baby  curls. 

"That's  Gaga,"  replied  Fauchery  simply;  and,  as  the  name 
seemed  to  convey  no  information  to  his  cousin,  he  added,  "Haven't 
you  heard  of  Gaga?  She  was  one  of  the  beauties  of  the  first 
years  of  Louis  Philippe's  reign.  Now  she  is  never  seen  anywhere 
without  her  daughter." 

La  Faloise  had  no  eyes  for  the  young  girl.  Gaga,  however, 
affected  him  strangely;  he  could  not  cease  looking  at  her.  He 
thought  her  still  very  handsome,  though  he  dared  not  say  so. 
At  length  the  conductor  of  the  orchestra  gave  the^signal,  and  the 
musicians  struck  the  first  note  of  the  overture.  People  were  still 
coming  in,  and  the  noise  and  bustle  increased.  On  special  occa- 
sions like  this  there  were  different  parts  of  the  house  where  friends 
met  with  a  smile;  whilst  the  regular  frequenters,  thoroughly  at 
their  ease,  exchanged  bows  right  and  left.  All  Paris  was  there 
-the  Paris  of  letters,  of  finance,  and  of  pleasure,  many  jour- 
nalists, some  few  authors,  and  several  speculators,  more  kept 
girls  than  respectable  women  —  a  company,  in  short,  that  was  a 
most  singular  mixture,  composed  of  every  kind  of  genius,  tainted 
with  every  description  of  vice,  where  the  same  weariness  and  the 
same  fever  seemed  inscribed  on  every  face.  Fauchery,  questioned 

C93 


NANA 

by  his  cousin,  pointed  out  to  him  the  boxes  of  the  various  news- 
papers and  clubs,  and  then  the  dramatic  critics,  one  skinny  and 
dried  up,  with  thin  and  wicked-looking  lips,  but  more  especially 
a  stout,  good-natured-looking  man,  who  leaned  on  the  shoulder 
of  his  companion,  an  artless  young  person,  over  whom  he  watched 
with  a  kind,  paternal  eye.  But  he  suddenly  cut  his  descriptions 
short  on  seeing  La  Faloise  bow  to  some  people  who  occupied  one 
of  the  centre  boxes.  He  seemed  surprised. 

"What!  you  know  Count  Muffat  de  Beuville?  "    he  asked. 

"Oh,  yes.  I  have  known  him  for  a  long  time,"  replied  Hector. 
"The  Muffats  had  an  estate  near  ours.  I  very  often  call  on  them. 
The  count  is  with  his  wife  and  her  father,  the  Marquis  de 
Chouard." 

Delighted  at  his  cousin's  astonishment,  and  spurred  on  by 
vanity,  La  Faloise  went  into  further  details.  The  marquis  was 
a  state  councillor,  and  the  count  had  just  been  appointed  chamber- 
Iain  to  the  Empress.  Fauchery  raised  his  opera-glass  and  examined 
the  countess  —  a  dark,  plump  woman,  with  a  lovely  white  skin, 
and  beautiful  black  eyes. 

"You  must  present  me  between  the  acts,"  he  said  at  last. 
"I  have  already  met  the  count,  but  I  should  like  to  go  to  their 
Tuesdays  at  home." 

An  energetic  "Hush!"  was  heard  from  the  upper  gallery. 
The  overture  had  commenced  but  people  were  still  coming  in. 
Whole  rows  of  persons  were  compelled  to  rise  to  allow  late  comers 
to  get  to  their  seats,  the  doors  of  the  boxes  banged,  and  loud 
>.  voices  were  heard  quarrelling  in  the  corridors.  Still  the  buzz 
j  of  conversation,  similar  to  the  noisy  chattering  of  sparrows  at 
sunset,  never  ceased.  Everything  was  in  the  greatest  confusion; 
it  was  a  medley  of  moving  heads  and  arms,  the  owners  of  which 
were  either  sitting  down  and  seeking  the  most  comfortable  posi- 
tions, or  persisting  in  standing  up  to  take  a  last  look  around. 
The  cry,  "Sit  down!  sit  down!"  came  from  obscure  corners  of 
of  the  pit.  Every  one  trembled  with  eagerness,  for  at  last  the 
famous  Nana,  of  whom  people  had  been  talking  for  a  week,  was 
about  to  be  seen!  By  degrees,  however,  the  noise  subsided,  with 
an  occasional  swell  from  time  to  time.  And  in  the  midst  of  this 
faint  murmur,  of  these  expiring  whispers,  the  orchestra  burst 
forth  in  the  gay  little  notes  of  a  waltz,  the  saucy  rhythm  of  which 
suggested  the  laugh  raised  by  some  over-free  piece  of  buffoonery. 


NANA 

The  audience,  fairly  tickled,  already  began  to  smile;  but  the 
claque,  seated  in  the  front  row  of  the  pit,  commenced  to  applaud 
vociferously.  The  curtain  rose. 

"Hallo!"  said  La  Faloise,  whose  tongue  still  wagged.  "There 
is  a  gentleman  with  Lucy,"  and  he  looked  at  the  stage  box  to 
the  right  of  the  first  tier,  in  the  front  of  which  sat  Lucy  and  Caro- 
line, while  in  the  rear  the  dignified  face  of  Caroline's  mother  was 
to  be  discerned,  and  also  the  profile  of  a  tall  light-haired  young 
man,  most  irreproachably  dressed. 

"Look,"  repeated  La  Faloise  with  persistence,  "there's  a  gentle- 
man." 

Fauchery  slowly  brought  his  opera-glass  to  bear  on  the  box 
indicated;  but  he  turned  away  immediately. 

"Oh!  it's  only  Labordette,"  he  murmured  in  a  careless  tone 
of  voice,  as  if  the  presence  of  that  gentleman  was  the  most  natural 
as  well  as  the  most  unimportant  thing  in  the  world. 

Behind  them  some  one  cried,  "Hush!"  and  they  were  driven 
to  silence.  Everybody  was  now  perfectly  still,  and  a  regular  sea 
of  heads,  upright  and  attentive,  filled  the  house  from  the  stalls 
to  the  amphitheatre.  The  first  act  of  "The  Blonde  Venus" 
was  laid  in  Olympus  —  a  card-board  Olympus,  with  clouds  at 
the  sides,  and  Jupiter's  throne  on  the  right.  Iris  and  Ganymede 
first  appeared,  surrounded  by  a  crowd  of  celestial  assistants, 
who  sang  a  chorus  as  they  arranged  the  seats  for  the  gods  in  council. 
Again  the  applause  of  the  paid  claque  was  heard,  but  the  audience 
as  yet  was  not  inclined  to  respond.  La  Faloise,  however,  had 
applauded  Clarisse  Besnus,  one  of  Bordenave's  little  women, 
who  played  the  part  of  Iris,  in  pale  blue,  with  a  broad  scarf  of 
the  seven  colours  fastened  round  her  waist. 

"You  know  she  takes  off  her  chemise  to  get  into  that  costume," 
he  said  to  Fauchery  in  a  loud  whisper.  "We  tried  it  on  this 
morning,  and  the  chemise  showed  under  the  arms  and  on  the 
back." 

But  a  slight  tremor  took  possession  of  the  audience  on  the 
appearance  of  Rose  Mignon  as  Diana.  Although  she  had  neither 
the  face  nor  the  figure  for  the  part,  as  she  was  thin  and  dark, 
with  the  adorable  ugliness  of  a  Parisian  urchin,  she  seemed  charm- 
ing, intended  as  she  might  have  been  as  a  mockery  of  the  character 
she  personated.  Her  entrance  song,  consisting  of  words  stupid 
enough  to  send  you  to  sleep,  and  in  which  she  complained  of 


NANA 

Mars,  who  was  neglecting  her  for  Venus,  was  sung  in  a  bashful 
manner,  but  so  full  of  smutty  inuendoes,  that  the  audience  warmed 
up.  Her  husband  and  Steiner  laughed  aloud  as  they  sat  side  by 
side.  And  the  whole  house  burst  into  applause  when  PruIIiere, 
that  especial  favourite,  appeared  as  Mars  in  the  uniform  of  a 
general,  adorned  with  a  monstrous  plume,  and  dragging  a  sword 
that  reached  to  his  shoulder.  He  had  had  enough  of  Diana; 
she  expected  too  much.  So  she  swore  to  watch  him  and  be  re- 
venged. Their  duo  wound  up  with  a  ludicrous  tyrolienne,  which 
PruIIiere  sang  in  his  funniest  style,  and  in  the  voice  of  an  angry 
tabby.  He  possessed  the  amusing  conceit  of  a  young  actor  in 
high  favour,  and  swaggered  about  as  he  rolled  his  eyes  in  a  way 
that  elicited  the  shrill  laughter  of  the  women  in  the  boxes.  After 
that,  however,  the  audience  became  as  cool  as  before;  the  scenes 
which  followed  were  dull  in  the  extreme.  Old  Rose,  as  an  imbecile 
Jupiter,  his  head  crushed  under  an  enormous  crown,  succeeded 
only  in  raising  a  smile,  as  he  quarrelled  with  Juno  on  account  of 
their  cook's  wages.  The  procession  of  the  gods  Neptune,  Pluto, 
Minerva,  and  all  the  others,  almost  spoilt  everything.  The 
spectators  were  becoming  very  impatient,  an  ominous  murmur 
slowly  arose,  every  one  began  to  lose  all  interest  in  the  piece, 
and  looked  about  the  house  rather  than  upon  the  stage.  Lucy 
laughed  with  Labordette;  the  Count  de  Vandeuvres  emerged  a 
little  from  behind  Blanche's  broad  shoulders;  while  Fauchery 
watched  the  Muffats  from  out  of  the  corner  of  his  eyes.  The  count 
looked  very  grave,  as  if  he  had  not  understood  anything;  and 
the  countess,  smiling  vaguely,  seemed  wrapped  in  reverie.  But 
suddenly  the  applause  of  the  claque  burst  forth  with  the  regularity 
of  a  discharge  of  musketry,  and  every  eye  became  rivetted  on  the 
stage  once  more.  Was  it  Nana  at  last  —  that  Nana  who  had 
kept  them  waiting  so  long? 

It  was  a  deputation  of  mortals  introduced  by  Ganymede  and 
Iris,  respectable  citizens,  all  deceived  husbands,  come  to  lay 
before  Jupiter  a  complaint  against  Venus,  who  inspired  their 
wives  with  a  great  deal  too  much  ardour.  The  chorus,  which 
they  sang  in  a  simple  and  doleful  manner,  was  now  and  again 
interrupted  by  the  most  significant  pauses,  and  amused  the 
audience  immensely.  A  whisper  went  round  the  house:  "The 
cuckolds'  chorus,  the  cuckolds'  chorus;  "  the  name  stuck  to  it,  and 
it  was  encored.  The  get-up  of  the  singers  was  very  comic,  their 


NANA 

faces  were  in  accordance  with  the  part  they  played;  there  was 
one  especially,  a  stout  fellow  with  a  face  as  round  as  a  moon. 
Vulcan,  however,  appeared  on  the  scene  in  a  state  of  furious  indig- 
nation, seeking  his  wife,  who  had  disappeared  from  home  three 
days  before.  The  chorus  struck  up  again,  imploring  Vulcan, 
the  god  of  cuckolds,  to  help  them.  The  part  of  Vulcan  was 
played  by  Fontan,  a  comic  actor  gifted  with  a  talent  as  spicy 
as  it  was  original,  who  waddled  about  in  the  most  ludicrous 
manner  imaginable,  in  the  costume  of  a  village  blacksmith,  with 
a  flaring  red  wig  on  his  head,  and  his  arms  bare  and  tattooed 
all  over  with  hearts  pierced  by  arrows.  A  woman's  voice  ex- 
claimed aloud,  "Oh!  isn't  he  ugly!"  and  every  one  laughed  as 
they  applauded.  The  next  scene  seemed  interminable.  Would 
Jupiter  never  get  all  the  gods  together  that  he  might  submit 
to  them  the  deceived  husbands'  petition?  and  still  no  Nana! 
Did  they  mean  to  keep  back  Nana  until  the  curtain  fell?  This 
long  suspense  ended  by  irritating  the  spectators,  and  they  re- 
commenced their  murmurs. 

"It's  going  from  bad  to  worse,"  said  Mignon,  delighted,  to 
Steiner.  "A  regular  fiasco;  see  if  it  isn't!" 

At  this  moment  the  clouds  parted  at  the  back  of  the  stage, 
and  Venus  appeared.  Nana,  very  tall  and  very  plump  for  her 
eighteen  years,  in  the  white  tunic  of  a  goddess,  and  with  her 
beautiful  golden  hair  floating  over  her  shoulders,  walked  towards 
the  foot-lights  with  calm  self-possession,  smiling  at  the  crowd 
before  her.  Her  lips  parted,  and  she  commenced  her  great 
song: 

When  Venus  takes  an  evening  stroll  —  " 

At  the  second  line,  people  exchanged  glances  of  wonder.  Was 
this  a  jest  on  the  part  of  Bordenave,  or  a  wager?  Never  had  so 
false  a  voice  and  so  poor  a  method  been  heard.  The  manager 
had  spoken  truly  when  he  said  that  she  had  no  more  voice  than 
a  squirt.  Nor  did  she  know  how  to  stand  or  move  on  the  stage. 
She  threw  her  arms  forward  and  wriggled  her  body  about  in  a 
manner  that  was  considered  scarcely  proper  and  very  ungrace- 
ful. The  pit  was  beginning  to  murmur,  in  fact  a  few  hisses  were 
heard,  when  suddenly  from  the  orchestra  stalls  a  voice,  resembling 
that  of  a  young  cock  moulting,  exclaimed  aloud  in  a  tone  of  in- 
tense conviction: 


NANA 

"She  is  stunning!" 

The  whole  house  looked  to  see  who  had  uttered  these  words. 
It  was  the  cherub,  the  youngster  fresh  from  college,  his  lovely 
eyes  strained  wide  open,  his  childish  face  all  aglow  with  admir- 
ation of  Nana.  When  he  saw  every  one  looking  at  him,  he  turned 
scarlet  with  shame  at  having  unintentionally  spoken  so  loud. 
Daguenet,  who  sat  next  him,  looked  at  him  with  a  smile,  and  the 
audience  laughed  aloud  and  thought  no  more  of  hissing,  while 
the  young  gentlemen  with  white  kid  gloves  also  carried  away  by 
Nana's  curves,  applauded  with  vehemence. 

"So  she  is!"  they  cried.    "Bravo!" 

Nana,  seeing  every  one  laughing,  laughed  also,  and  this  re- 
doubled the  gaiety.  She  was  funny,  all  the  same,  this  beauti- 
ful girl;  and  as  she  laughed,  a  love  of  a  dimple  appeared  on  her 
chin.  She  waited,  not  in  the  least  embarrassed,  but  on  the  con- 
trary quite  at  her  ease  and  thoroughly  at  home  with  the  audience, 
looking  as  though  she  herself  were  saying  with  a  wink  of  her  eye 
that  she  didn't  possess  a  ha'porth  of  talent,  but  it  didn't  matter, 
she  had  something  better  than  that.  And  after  making  a  sign 
to  the  conductor,  which  meant,  "Off  you  go,  old  boy!"  she  com- 
menced her  second  verse: 

"  At  midnight,  Venus  passes  by — " 

It  was  still  the  same  grating  voice,  but  this  time  it  tickled 
the  hearers  in  the  right  place,  and  succeeded  now  and  again  in 
eliciting  an  approving  murmur.  Nana's  smile  was  still  on  her 
red  lips,  and  shone  in  her  large  light  blue  eyes.  At  certain  lines, 
which  were  a  trifle  broad  in  meaning,  her  pink  nostrils  dilated 
and  the  colour  rose  to  her  cheeks.  She  continued  to  wriggle 
her  body  about,  not  knowing  what  else  to  do;  but  it  was  no 
longer  considered  unbecoming;  on  the  contrary,  every  opera- 
glass  was  turned  upon  her.  As  she  finished  the  verse  her  voice 
failed  her  entirely,  and  she  saw  that  she  could  not  go  on.  Without 
being  in  the  least  disturbed,  she  jerked  her  hip  in  a  manner  which 
indicated  its  plumpness  beneath  her  scanty  tunic,  and,  with  her 
body  bent  forward,  displaying  her  bare  breast,  she  extended  her 
arms.  Applause  burst  forth  from  all  parts  of  the  house.  She 
at  once  turned  round,  showing  as  she  retired  to  the  back  of  the 
stage  the  nape  of  a  neck,  the  red  hair  on  which  looked  like  the 
fleece  of  an  animal;  and  the  applause  became  deafening. 


NANA 

The  end  of  the  act  elicited  less  enthusiasm.  Vulcan  wished 
to  slap  his  wife's  face.  The  gods  took  council,  and  decided  that 
they  had  best  investigate  matters  on  the  earth,  before  deciding 
in  favour  of  the  deceived  husbands.  Diana,  overhearing  some 
tender  passages  between  Venus  and  Mars,  swore  that  she  would 
not  once  let  them  out  of  her  sight  during  the  journey.  There 
was  also  a  scene  in  which  Cupid,  acted  by  a  little  girl  of  twelve, 
answered  to  every  question,  "Yes,  mamma,"  "No,  mamma,"  in 
tearful  tones  and  with  her  fingers  in  her  nose.  Then  Jupiter,  with 
all  the  severity  of  an  angry  master,  shut  Cupid  in  a  dark  closet, 
and  bade  him  conjugate  twenty  times  the  verb,  "to  love."  The 
finale,  a  chorus  very  brilliantly  rendered,  met  with  more  success. 
But,  after  the  curtain  had  fallen,  the  claque  in  vain  tried  to  obtain 
an  encore;  everybody  rose  and  moved  towards  the  doors.  As 
the  audience  pushed  their  way  through  the  rows  of  seats,  they 
exchanged  their  impressions.  One  phrase  was  constantly  heard: 
"It  is  simply  idiotic!"  A  critic  observed  that  the  piece  wanted 
a  great  deal  of  cutting  down.  But  the  piece,  after  all,  mattered 
little.  Nana  was  the  chief  topic  of  conversation.  Fauchery  and 
La  Faloise,  who  were  among  the  first  to  leave  their  seats,  met 
Steiner  and  Mignon  in  the  passage  leading  to  the  stalls.  The 
atmosphere  was  stifling  in  this  hole,  which  was  low  and  narrow 
like  some  gallery  in  a  mine,  and  was  lighted  here  and  there  by 
flaring  gas-jets.  They  stood  for  a  moment  at  the  foot  of  the  stair- 
case on  the  right,  protected  by  the  railing.  The  spectators  from 
the  upper  part  of  the  house  tramped  down  with  a  great  noise 
of  heavy  shoes,  the  procession  of  men  in  evening  dress  seemed  as 
though  it  would  never  cease,  and  a  box-opener  endeavoured  to 
prevent  a  chair  on  which  she  had  piled  coats  and  shawls  from 
being  swept  away  by  the  crowd. 

"But  I  know  her!"  cried  Steiner  as  soon  as  he  saw  Fauchery. 
"I  have  certainly  seen  her  somewhere.  At  the  Casino,  I  think; 
and  she  was  so  drunk  that  she  got  locked  up." 

"Well,  I'm  not  quite  sure,"  said  the  journalist.  "I'm  like 
you,  I  have  certainly  met  her  somewhere."  He  lowered  his 
voice  and  added  with  a  laugh,  "At  old  Tr icon's,  I  dare- 
say." 

"Of  course,  in  some  vile  place!"  exclaimed  Mignon,  who  seemed 
exasperated.  "It  is  disgusting  to  see  the  public  welcome  in  such 
a  way  the  first  filthy  wench  that  offers.  Soon  there  will  not  be 


NANA 

a  respectable  woman  left  on  the  stage.  Yes,  I  shall  have  to 
forbid  Rose  playing  any  more/' 

Fauchery  could  not  repress  a  smile.  Meanwhile,  the  heavily- 
shod  crowd  continued  to  pour  down  the  stairs,  and  a  little  man 
in  a  cap  said,  in  a  drawling  voice:  "Oh,  my!  she  is  plump!  You 
could  eat  her!" 

In  the  lobby,  two  young  men,  with  their  hair  exquisitely  curled, 
and  looking  very  stylish  with  their  stuck-up  collars  turned  slightly 
down  in  front,  were  quarrelling.  One  kept  saying,  "Vile!  vile!" 
without  giving  any  reason;  whilst  the  other  retaliated  with, 
"Stunning!  stunning!"  equally  disdaining  to  explain.  La  Faloise 
liked  her  immensely.  He,  however,  only  ventured  to  observe 
that  she  would  be  much  better  if  she  cultivated  her  voice.  Then 
Steiner,  who  had  left  off  listening,  seemed  to  wake  up  with  a 
start.  They  must  wait,  though.  Perhaps  in  the  next  acts  every- 
thing would  come  to  grief.  The  audience,  though  very  lenient 
so  far,  was  not  yet  smitten  with  the  piece.  Mignon  swore  no  one 
would  sit  it  through;  and  as  Fauchery  and  La  Faloise  left  them 
to  go  into  the  saloon,  he  took  hold  of  Steiner's  arm,  and,  pressing 
close  up  to  his  shoulder,  whispered  in  his  ear,  "Old  boy,  come 
and  see  my  wife's  costume  for  the  second  act.  It  is  the  limit!" 

Upstairs,  the  foyer  was  brilliantly  illuminated  by  three  crystal 
gasaliers.  The  two  cousins  paused  for  a  moment.  The  glass 
doors,  standing  wide  open,  showed  them  a  wave  of  heads,  which 
two  contending  currents  whirled  about  in  a  continual  eddy. 
They  entered.  Five  or  six  groups  of  men,  talking  and  gesticulat- 
ing earnestly,  stood  their  ground  in  spite  of  the  crush,  while  others 
were  walking  up  and  down  in  rows,  now  and  again  turning  sharply 
on  their  heels,  which  resounded  on  the  waxed  boards.  To  the 
right  and  left,  women,  occupying  the  red  velvet  seats  placed 
between  the  jasper  columns,  watched  the  crowd  as  it  passed  with 
a  weary  air,  as  if  exhausted  by  the  intense  heat;  and  behind  them 
could  be  seen  their  chignons  in  the  tall  glasses  decorating  the 
walls.  At  the  end  of  the  saloon,  a  man  with  a  very  big  belly  was 
standing  at  the  bar  drinking  a  glass  of  syrup.  Fauchery  had  gone 
out  on  to  the  balcony  to  get  a  breath  of  fresh  air.  La  Faloise 
who  had  been  studying  some  photographs  of  actresses  placed  in 
frames,  which  alternated  with  the  looking-glasses  between  the 
columns,  ended  by  following  him.  The  row  of  gas-jets  in  front 
of  the  theatre  had  just  been  extinguished.  It  was  dark  and  cool 


NANA 

on  the  balcony,  which  appeared  to  be  vacant,  with  the  exception 
of  one  solitary  figure  —  that  of  a  young  man  who,  enveloped  in 
shadow,  leant  against  the  stone  balustrade  in  the  recess  on  the 
right  smoking  a  cigarette.  Fauchery  recognised  Daguenet. 
They  shook  hands. 

"Whatever  are  you  doing  there,  old  fellow?"  asked  the  journa- 
list. "Hiding  in  odd  corners;  you  who,  as  a  rule,  never  leave 
the  stalls  during  a  first  night's  performance." 

"But  I  am  smoking,  as  you  see,"  answered  Daguenet. 

Then  Fauchery,  so  as  to  embarrass  him,  said,  "And  the  new 
star,  what  do  you  think  of  her?  The  remarks  I  have  heard  made 
about  the  house  are  rather  disparaging." 

"Oh!  murmured  Daguenet,  "by  men  with  whom  she  would 
not  have  anything  to  do." 

This  was  all  the  criticism  he  offered  on  Nana's  talent.  La 
Faloise,  leaning  forward,  looked  up  and  down  the  Boulevard. 
The  windows  of  a  hotel  and  a  club  opposite  were  brilliantly 
lighted,  while  on  the  pavement  a  compact  mass  of  customers 
occupied  the  tables  of  the  Cafe  de  Madrid.  Nothwithstanding 
the  lateness  of  the  hour,  the  crowd  was  immense;  everyone 
had  to  walk  slowly.  A  stream  of  people  continually  flowed 
from  the  Passage  Jouffroy,  and  persons  were  obliged  to  wait 
five  minutes  sometimes,  before  they  could  cross  from  one  side 
of  the  road  to  the  other,  so  great  was  the  throng  of  vehicles. 

"What  animation!  what  noise!"  La  Faloise,  who  had  not 
yet  ceased  to  be  astonished  at  Paris,  kept  repeating. 

A  bell  ran,  and  the  saloon  rapidly  emptied.  Every  one  hurried 
along  the  passages.  The  curtain  had  risen,  but  a  crowd  still 
streamed  in,  much  to  the  disgust  of  those  of  the  audience  who 
were  already  seated.  The  late  comers  hastened  to  their  places 
with  animated  and  attentive  looks.  La  Faloise's  first  glance 
was  for  Gaga;  but  he  was  astonished  to  notice  by  her  side  the 
tall  fellow  with  light  hair,  who,  during  the  first  act,  had  been  in 
Lucy's  stage-box. 

"What  did  you  say  was  the  name  of  that  gentleman?"  he 
asked. 

Fauchery  did  not  see  the  person  meant  at  once.  "Ah!  yes, 
Labordette,"  he  said  at  last,  in  the  same  careless  tone  of  voice  as 
before. 

The  scenery  of  the  second  act  was  a  surprise.     It  represented 


\ 


NANA 

a  low  dancing  establishment  of  the  suburbs,  called  the  "Boule 
Noire/'  on  a  Shrove  Tuesday.  Some  masqueraders,  dressed  in 
grotesque  costumes,  sang  a  lively  strain,  the  chorus  of  which 
they  accompanied  by  stamping  their  heels.  The  words  and 
gestures  being  not  over  decorous  and  quite  unexpected,  amused 
the  audience  immensely,  and  secured  the  honours  of  an  encore. 
And  it  was  into  this  place  that  the  troop  of  gods,  led  astray 
by  Iris,  who  falsely  claimed  to  know  the  earth,  had  come  to 
pursue  their  investigations.  They  were  disguised  so  as  to  pre- 
serve their  incognito.  Jupiter  appeared  as  King  Dagobert, 
with  his  breeches  turned  wrong  side  out,  and  a  huge  tin  crown 
on  his  head.  Phoebus  masqueraded  as  the  Postillion  of  Long- 
jumeau,  and  Minerva  as  a  Norman  wet  nurse.  Shouts  of  laughter 
greeted  Mars,  who  wore  a  preposterous  costume,  as  a  Swiss 
admiral;  but  the  mirth  became  scandalous  when  Neptune, 
dressed  in  a  blouse  and  tall  cap,  with  little  curls  glued  to  his 
temples,  dragged  after  him  his  slip-shod  shoes,  and  said,  in  an 
unctuous  tone  of  voice:  "Well!  what  next?  When  a  fellow's 
handsome,  he  must  allow  himself  to  be  adored!"  This  elicited 
a  few  "Oh!  ohs!  "  while  the  ladies  slightly  raised  their  fans. 
Lucy,  in  her  stage-box,  laughed  so  noisily  that  Caroline  Hequet 
entreated  her  to  be  quiet.  From  this  moment  the  piece  was 
saved,  and  was  even  a  great  success.  This  carnival  of  the  gods, 
Olympus  dragged  through  the  mud,  religion  and  poetry  alike 
scoffed  at,  struck  the  public  as  extremely  witty.  A  fever  of 
irreverence  took  possession  of  this  intellectual  first  night  audience; 
ancient  legends  were  trodden  under  foot,  and  antique  images 
were  broken.  Jupiter  had  a  fine  head,  Mars  was  highly 
successful.  Royalty  became  a  farce,  and  the  army  a  jest.  When 
Jupiter,  desperately  smitten  all  of  a  sudden  by  the  charms  of 
a  little  laundress,  broke  into  a  wild  cancan,  and  Simone,  who 
played  the  part  of  the  laundress,  raised  her  foot  on  a  level  with 
the  nose  of  the  master  of  the  gods,  calling  him,  in  such  a  funny 
manner,  "My  fat  old  boy!"  a  peal  of  mad  laughter  shook  the 
house.  While  the  others  danced,  Phoebus  treated  Minerva  to 
some  hot  wine,  and  Neptune  sat  surrounded  by  some  seven  or 
eight  women,  who  stuffed  him  with  cakes.  The  audience  snatched 
at  the  faintest  allusions,  obscenities  were  discovered  where  none 
were  intended,  and  the  most  inoffensive  words  were  invested  with 
a  totally  different  meaning  by  the  exclamations  of  the  occupants 


NANA 

of  the  stalls.  It  was  long  since  the  theatre-going  public  had 
wallowed  in  such  disgusting  foolery,  and  it  took  its  fill.  The 
action  of  the  piece,  however,  advanced  in  spite  of  all  this  by- 
play. Vulcan,  dressed  in  the  latest  style,  only  all  in  yellow, 
and  with  yellow  gloves  and  a  glass  in  his  eye,  was  there  in  pur- 
suit of  Venus,  who  at  last  arrived,  dressed  as  a  fish-woman,  a 
handkerchief  thrown  over  her  head,  her  breasts  protruding,  and 
covered  with  huge  gold  ornaments.  Nana  was  so  white,  and  so 
plump,  and  so  natural  in  this  part  of  a  person  strong  in  the  hips 
and  the  gift  of  the  gab,  that  she  at  once  gained  the  entire  audience. 
Rose  Mignon,  a  delicious  baby,  with  a  baby  bonnet  on  her  head, 
and  in  short  muslin  skirts,  was  quite  forgotten,  although  she 
had  just  sung  Diana's  woes  in  a  charming  voice.  The  other, 
the  big  girl  with  her  arms  akimbo,  who  clucked  like  a  hen,  was  so 
full  of  life  and  the  power  of  woman,  that  the  audience  became 
fairly  intoxicated. 

After  this  no  exception  was  taken  at  anything  that  Nana  did. 
She  was  allowed  to  pose  badly,  to  move  badly,  to  sing  every 
note  false,  and  forget  her  part.  She  had  only  to  turn  to  the 
audience  and  smile,  to  be  treated  with  wild  applause.  Each 
time  she  gave  her  peculiar  movement  of  the  hips  the  occupants 
of  the  stalls  brightened  up,  and  the  enthusiasm  rose  from  gallery 
to  gallery  up  to  the  very  roof,  so  that  when  she  led  the  dance 
her  triumph  was  complete.  She  was  in  her  element  as,  with 
arms  akimbo,  she  dragged  Venus  through  the  mire.  The  music, 
too,  seemed  written  for  her  voice  of  the  gutter  —  a  music  of  reed- 
pipes,  a  sort  of  reminiscence  of  a  return  from  the  fair  of  Saint 
Cloud,  with  the  sneezes  of  the  clarionets  and  the  gambols  of 
the  flutes.  Two  concerted  pieces  were  again  encored.  The 
waltz  of  the  overture,  that  waltz  with  the  saucy  rhythm,  returned 
and  whirled  the  gods  round  and  round.  Juno,  as  a  farmer's 
wife,  caught  Jupiter  flirting  with  the  washerwoman,  and  spanked 
him.  Diana  surprising  Venus  in  the  act  of  arranging  a  meeting 
with  Mars,  hastened  to  inform  Vulcan  of  the  time  and  place, 
when  the  latter  exclaimed  —  "I  have  my  plan."  The  remainder 
of  the  act  did  not  seem  very  clear.  The  gods'  inquiry  terminated 
in  a  final  gallopade,  after  which  Jupiter,  in  a  great  perspiration, 
all  out  of  breath,  and  having  lost  his  crown,  proclaimed  that 
the  little  women  of  the  earth  were  delicious,  and  that  the  men 
alone  were  in  the  wrong.  The  curtain  fell,  and  above  the  applause 


NANA 

rose  some  voices  shouting  loudly,  "All!  All!"  Then  the  curtain 
rose  again,  and  the  actors  and  actresses  reappeared  hand-in-hand. 
In  their  midst  were  Nana  and  Rose  Mignon,  bowing  side  by  side. 
The  applause  was  repeated,  the  claque  surpassed  their  former 
efforts,  and  then  the  house  slowly  became  half  empty. 

"I  must  go  and  pay  my  respects  to  Countess  Muffat,"  said 
La  Faloise. 

"Very  well,"  replied  Fauchery;  "and  you  can  introduce  me. 
We  can  go  outside  afterwards." 

But  it  was  not  such  an  easy  matter  to  reach  the  balcony  boxes, 
as  the  crowd  in  the  passages  was  almost  impenetrable.  To  pass 
through  the  different  groups,  it  was  necessary  to  use  one's  elbows 
rather  freely.  Leaning  against  the  wall,  beneath  a  brass  gas- 
bracket, the  stout  critic  was  giving  his  opinion  of  the  piece  to 
an  attentive  circle.  People,  as  they  passed,  lingered  and  told 
their  friends  in  a  low  voice  who  he  was.  It  was  rumoured  that 
he  had  laughed  during  the  whole  act;  however,  he  now  showed 
himself  very  severe,  and  talked  of  good  taste  and  morality. 
Farther  on,  the  critic  with  the  thin  lips  was  most  favourable, 
but  his  remarks  had  an  unpleasant  after-taste,  like  milk  turned 
sour.  Fauchery  searched  the  different  boxes  with  a  glance  through 
the  small  round  windows  in  the  doors.  But  the  Count  de  Van- 
deuvres  stopped  him  to  ask  him  some  questions.  When  he  learnt 
that  the  two  cousins  intended  paying  their  respects  to  the  Muffats, 
he  directed  them  to  their  box,  No.  7,  which  he  had  just  left.  Then 
he  whispered  in  the  journalist's  ear: 

"I  say,  old  fellow,  this  Nana  is  surely  the  girl  we  met  one 
night  at  the  corner  of  the  Rue  de  Provence." 

"Why,  of  course!  you  are  right,"  exclaimed  Fauchery.  "I 
was  sure  I  had  met  her  somewhere!" 

La  Faloise  introduced  his  cousin  to  Count  Muffat  de  Beuville, 
whose  manner  was  cool  in  the  extreme.  But  on  hearing  Fau- 
chery's  name,  the  countess  looked  up  quickly  and  complimented 
him  on  his  articles  in  the  "Figaro"  in  a  well-turned  phrase. 
Leaning  against  the  velvet-covered  balustrade,  she  half  turned 
towards  him  with  a  graceful  movement  of  her  shoulders.  They 
talked  for  a  few  minutes,  and  the  conversation  fell  upon  the 
Exhibition. 

"  It  will  certainly  be  very  fine,"  said  the  count,  whose  square 
face  and  regular  features  preserved  a  certain  official  gravity.  "I 

£203 


NANA 

visited  the  Champ  de  Mars  to-day  and  I  returned  filled  with 
wonder." 

"  I  am  told,  however,  that  it  will  not  be  ready  in  time/'  observed 
La  Faloise.  "Something  has  gone  wrong — " 

"It  will  be  ready!  The  emperor  insists  upon  it!"  interrupted 
the  count  in  his  stern  voice. 

Fauchery  told  gaily  how  he  had  been  almost  lost  in  the  aqua- 
rium, during  its  building  one  day  when  he  had  gone  there  in 
search  of  materials  for  an  article.  The  countess  smiled.  She 
looked  from  time  to  time  about  the  house,  raising  an  arm  with 
its  long  white  glove  reaching  to  the  elbow,  and  fanning  herself 
slowly.  The  seats  were  now  mostly  unoccupied;  a  few  gentle- 
men who  had  remained  in  the  stalls  were  reading  the  evening 
papers;  and  several  women  were  receiving  their  friends  much 
as  if  they  were  at  home.  There  was  now  no  sound  above  a  well- 
bred  whisper  beneath  the  crystal  gasalier,  the  brightness  of 
which  was  dimmed  by  the  fine  dust  raised  by  the  stir  at  the  end 
of  the  act.  About  the  doors,  some  men  lingered  to  inspect  the 
few  women  who  remained  seated;  and  for  a  minute  they  stood 
quite  motionless,  stretching  their  necks,  and  displaying  their 
white  shirt  fronts. 

"We  shall  expect  to  see  you  next  Tuesday,"  said  the  countess 
to  La  Faloise. 

And  she  extended  her  invitation  to  Fauchery,  who  thanked 
her  with  a  low  bow.  The  play  was  not  alluded  to,  nor  was  the 
name  of  Nana  pronounced.  The  count's  manner  was  so  icy  and 
dignified,  that  one  might  have  supposed  him  to  be  at  a  meeting 
of  the  Corps  Legislatif.  He  took  occasion  to  say,  as  if  to  explain 
their  presence,  that  his  father-in-law  had  an  especial  fondness 
for  the  theatre.  The  door  of  the  box  had  remained  open,  and 
the  Marquis  de  Chouard,  who  had  gone  out  to  leave  room  for 
the  visitors,  now  stood  tall  and  erect  in  the  doorway,  his  pale, 
flabby  face  shaded  by  his  broad-brimmed  hat,  as  he  followed  with 
his  dim  eyes  the  women  who  passed.  As  soon  as  the  countess 
had  given  her  invitation,  Fauchery  retired,  feeling  that  under 
the  circumstances  it  would  not  be  in  good  taste  to  discuss  the 
play.  La  Faloise  left  the  box  the  last.  He  had  just  noticed  in 
Count  de  Vandeuvres's  stage-box  the  fair-haired  Labordette, 
quite  at  his  ease,  and  conversing  intimately  with  Blanche  de 
Sivry. 


NANA 

"I  say,"  said  he,  as  he  joined  his  cousin,  "this  Labordette 
appears  to  know  ail  the  women.  He's  with  Blanche  now." 

"Know  them  all!  Of  course  he  does,"  answered  Fauchery, 
coolly.  "Why,  wherever  have  you  sprung  from,  young  man?" 

The  passage  was  not  nearly  so  crowded  now.  Fauchery  was 
on  the  point  of  going  down  the  stairs  when  Lucy  Stewart  called 
him.  She  was  standing  just  outside  the  door  of  her  box.  The 
heat,  she  said,  was  intolerable  inside;  so,  in  company  of  Caro- 
line Hequet  and  her  mother,  she  blocked  up  the  whole  width 
of  the  passage,  crunching  burnt  almonds.  One  of  the  box-openers 
was  conversing  with  them  in  a  maternal  manner.  Lucy  began 
at  once  to  pick  a  quarrel  with  the  journalist.  He  was  a  nice 
fellow  —  he  was  in  a  precious  hurry  to  go  and  see  the  other 
women,  but  he  couldn't  even  come  and  ask  them  to  have  a  drink! 
Then,  suddenly  dropping  the  subject,  she  said  lightly: 

"I  say,  old  fellow,  I  think  Nana  a  big  hit." 

She  wanted  him  to  be  in  her  box  for  the  last  act;  but  he  escaped, 
promising  to  see  them  at  the  end  of  the  piece.  Outside,  in  front 
of  the  theatre,  Fauchery  and  La  Faloise  lit  their  cigarettes.  A 
small  crowd  blocked  the  pavement,  formed  of  a  part  of  the  male 
portion  of  the  audience,  who  had  come  down  the  steps  to  breathe 
the  fresh  night  air,  amidst  the  growing  stillness  of  the  Boulevard. 

In  the  meanwhile  Mignon  had  dragged  Steiner  to  the  Cafe 
des  Varietes.  Seeing  Nana's  success,  he  spoke  of  her  enthusi- 
astically, all  the  time  watching  the  banker  from  out  of  the  corner 
of  his  eye.  He  knew  him;  twice  had  he  assisted  him  in  deceiv- 
ing Rose,  and  when  the  caprice  was  over,  had  brought  him  back 
to  her,  faithful  and  penitent.  Inside  the  cafe  the  too  numerous 
customers  were  squeezing  round  the  marble  tables,  and  some 
men,  standing  up,  were  drinking  hastily;  the  large  mirrors  re- 
flected this  mass  of  heads  ad  infinitum,  and  increased  inordinately 
the  size  of  the  narrow  saloon  with  its  three  gasaliers,  its  mole- 
skin-covered seats,  and  its  winding  staircase  draped  with  red. 
Steiner  seated  himself  at  a  table  in  the  outer  room,  which  was 
quite  open  on  to  the  Boulevard,  the  frontage  having  been  removed 
a  little  too  early  for  the  season.  As  Fauchery  and  his  cousin  passed, 
the  banker  stopped  them. 

"Come  and  take  a  glass  of  beer  with  us,"  he  said. 

He  himself,  however,  was  absorbed  with  an  idea  which  had  just 
occurred  to  him;  he  wanted  to  have  a  bouquet  thrown  to  Nana. 

£223 


NANA 

At  length  he  called  one  of  the  waiters,  whom  he  familiarly  named 
Augustus.  Mignon,  who  was  listening  to  all  he  said,  looked  at 
him  so  straight  in  the  eyes  that  he  became  quite  disconcerted 
as  he  faltered,  "Two  bouquets,  Augustus,  and  give  them  to  one 
of  the  attendants.  One  for  each  of  the  ladies,  at  the  right  moment, 
you  understand." 

At  the  other  end  of  the  room,  with  her  head  supported  against 
the  frame  of  a  mirror,  a  girl,  who  could  not  have  been  more  than 
eighteen,  sat  motionless  before  an  empty  glass,  as  though  be- 
numbed by  a  long  and  useless  waiting.  Beneath  the  natural 
curls  of  her  beautiful  fair  hair  appeared  the  face  of  a  virgin  with 
a  pair  of  velvety  eyes  looking  so  gentle  and  honest.  She  wore 
a  dress  of  faded  green  silk,  with  a  round  hat  which  had  been 
knocked  in  by  sundry  blows.  The  chilly  evening  air  made  her 
look  quite  white. 

"Hallo!  why,  there's  Satin,"  murmured  Fauchery  as  he  caught 
sight  of  her. 

La  Faloise  questioned  him.  Oh!  she  was  nobody.  Only  a 
wretched  street- walker;  but  she  was  so  foul-mouthed,  it  was 
rare  fun  to  make  her  talk.  And  the  journalist  raised  his  voice: 
"Whatever  are  you  doing  there,  Satin?" 

"Wearing  my  guts  out,"  she  quietly  replied,  without  moving. 

The  four  men,  highly  delighted,  burst  out  laughing.  Mignon 
assured  the  others  that  there  was  no  need  to  hurry;  it  would 
take  at  least  twenty  minutes  to  set  up  the  scenery  of  the  third 
act.  But  the  two  cousins,  who  had  finished  their  beer,  wished 
to  return  to  the  theatre;  they  felt  cold.  Then,  Mignon  left 
alone  with  Steiner,  leaned  both  elbows  on  the  table,  and,  looking 
him  full  in  the  face,  said,  "Well  then,  it's  quite  understood, 
we  will  call  on  her,  and  I  will  introduce  you.  You  know,  it's 
quite  between  ourselves;  my  wife  need  not  know  anything  about 
it." 

Back  in  their  places,  Fauchery  and  La  Faloise  noticed  in  the 
second  tier  of  boxes  a  very  pretty  woman,  very  quietly  dressed. 
She  was  accompanied  by  a  solemn-looking  gentleman,  the  head 
of  a  department  at  the  Ministry  of  the  Interior,  whom  La  Faloise 
knew  from  having  met  him  at  the  Muffats'.  As  for  Fauchery, 
he  said  he  believed  she  was  called  Madame  Robert  —  a  worthy 
woman  who  had  a  lover,  but  never  more  than  one,  and  he  was 
always  a  highly  respectable  person.  As  they  turned  round, 


NANA 

Daguenet  smiled  at  them.  Now  that  Nana  had  proved  a  success, 
he  no  longer  kept  himself  in  the  background;  he  had  just  returned 
from  wandering  about  the  house  and  enjoying  her  triumph.  The 
youngster,  fresh  from  college,  beside  him  had  not  once  quitted 
his  seat,  so  overpowering  was  the  state  of  admiration  into  which 
the  sight  of  Nana  had  plunged  him.  So  that,  then,  was  woman! 
and  he  blushed  deeply,  and  kept  taking  off  and  putting  on  his 
gloves  mechanically.  At  last,  as  his  neighbour  had  talked  about 
Nana,  he  ventured  to  question  him. 

"Excuse  me,  sir,"  he  said,  "but  this  lady,  who  is  playing  — 
do  you  happen  to  know  her?" 

"Yes  —  a  little  — "  murmured  Daguenet  in  surprise,  and  with 
some  hesitation. 

"Then  you  know  her  address?" 

The  question  came  so  abruptly,  and  so  strangely,  as  addressed 
to  him,  that  Daguenet  felt  like  slapping  the  lad's  face. 

"  I  do  not,"  he  answered  coldly,  and  turned  his  back. 

The  youngster  understood  that  he  had  been  guilty  of  some 
impropriety;  he  blushed  all  the  more,  and  was  mortified  beyond 
expression. 

The  three  knocks  resounded  throughout  the  house,  and  some 
of  the  attendants,  their  arms  full  of  opera-cloaks  and  overcoats, 
were  obstinately  endeavouring  to  restore  the  various  garments 
to  their  owners,  who  were  hastening  back  to  their  seats.  The 
claque  applauded  the  scenery,  which  represented  a  grotto  in 
Mount  Etna,  hollowed  out  of  a  silver  mine,  with  sides  that  glit- 
tered like  newly  coined  crown  pieces;  at  the  back  was  Vulcan's 
forge,  with  all  the  tints  of  a  sunset.  In  the  second  scene  Diana 
arranged  everything  with  the  god,  who  was  to  pretend  to  go  on 
a  journey  so  as  to  leave  the  coast  clear  for  Venus  and  Mars. 
Then  scarcely  was  Diana  left  alone,  than  Venus  arrived.  A 
thrill  ran  through  the  audience.  Nana  was  next  to  naked.  She 
appeared  in  her  nakedness  with  a  calm  audacity,  confident  in  the 
all-powerfulness  of  her  flesh.  A  slight  gauze  enveloped  her; 
her  round  shoulders,  her  amazonian  breasts,  the  rosy  tips  of  which 
stood  out  straight  and  firm  as  lances,  her  broad  hips  swayed  by 
the  most  voluptuous  movements,  her  plump  thighs,  in  fact,  her 
whole  body  could  be  divined,  nay,  seen,  white  as  the  foam,  be- 
neath the  transparent  covering.  It  was  Venus  rising  from  the 
sea,  with  no  other  veil  than  her  locks.  And  when  Nana  raised 

£243 


NANA 

her  arms,  the  glare  of  the  foot-lights  displayed  to  every  gaze 
the  golden  hairs  of  her  armpits.  There  was  no  applause.  No 
one  laughed  now.  The  grave  faces  of  the  men  were  bent  for- 
ward, their  nostrils  contracted,  their  mouths  parched  and  irritated. 
A  gentle  breath,  laden  with  an  unknown  menace,  seemed  to  have 
passed  over  all.  Out  of  this  laughing  girl  there  had  suddenly 
emerged  a  woman,  appalling  all  who  beheld  her,  crowning  all 
the  follies  of  her  sex,  displaying  to  the  world  the  hidden  secrets 
of  inordinate  desire.  Nana  still  preserved  her  smile,  but  it  was 
the  mocking  one  of  a  destroyer  of  men. 

"The  devil!"  said  Fauchery  to  La  Faloise. 

Mars,  in  the  meantime,  hurrying  to  the  meeting,  with  his 
big  hat  and  plume,  found  himself  caught  between  the  two  god- 
desses. Then  there  ensued  a  scene  in  which  PruIIiere  played 
very  ingeniously.  Fondled  by  Diana,  who  wished  to  make  a  last 
attempt  to  bring  him  back  into  the  right  path  before  delivering 
him  up  to  Vulcan's  vengeance,  cajoled  by  Venus,  whom  the 
presence  of  her  rival  stimulated,  he  abandoned  himself  to  all 
these  endearments  with  the  happy  expression  of  a  donkey  in  a 
field  of  clover.  The  scene  ended  with  a  grand  trio,  and  it  was 
at  this  moment  that  an  attendant  entered  Lucy  Stewart's  box, 
and  threw  two  enormous  bouquets  of  white  lilac  on  to  the  stage. 
Every  one  applauded,  and  Nana  and  Rose  Mignon  curtsied 
their  acknowledgments,  whilst  PruIIiere  picked  up  the  flowers. 
Some  of  the  occupants  of  the  stalls  turned  smilingly  in  the  direc- 
tion of  the  box  occupied  by  Steiner  and  Mignon.  The  banker, 
all  inflamed,  moved  his  chin  convulsively  as  though  something 
had  stuck  in  his  throat.  The  acting  which  followed  quite  took 
the  house  by  storm.  Diana  having  gone  off  furious,  Venus,  seated 
on  a  bed  of  moss,  at  once  called  Mars  to  her  side.  Never  before 
had  so  warm  a  scene  of  seduction  been  risked  upon  the  stage. 
Nana,  her  arms  around  Pruliiere's  neck,  was  slowly  drawing  him 
to  her,  when  Fontan,  grotesquely  imitating  the  most  awful  fury, 
exaggerating  the  looks  of  an  outraged  husband  who  surprises 
his  wife  in  the  very  act,  appeared  at  the  back  of  the  grotto.  In 
his  hands  he  held  his  famous  iron  net;  for  a  moment  he  poised 
it  like  a  fisherman  about  to  throw,  then,  by  some  ingenious  device, 
Venus  and  Mars  were  ensnared,  the  net  covered  them,  and  held 
them  fast  in  their  guilty  posture. 

Then  arose  a  murmur  resembling  one  huge  sigh.    A  few  hands 


NANA 

clapped,  and  every  opera-glass  was  fixed  on  Venus.  Little  by 
little  Nana  had  gained  possession  of  the  audience  and  now  every 
man  succumbed  to  her.  The  lust  she  inspired,  similar  to  an  animal 
in  heat,  had  grown  more  and  more  till  it  filled  the  house.  Now, 
her  slightest  movements  fanned  the  desire;  the  raising  of  her 
little  finger  caused  all  the  flesh  beholding  her  to  quiver.  Backs 
were  arched,  vibrating  as  though  the  muscles,  like  so  many  fiddle- 
strings,  were  being  played  on  by  some  invisible  hand;  on  the  napes 
of  the  outstretched  necks  the  down  fluttered  beneath  the  warm 
and  errant  breath  escaped  from  some  women's  lips.  Fauchery 
beheld  in  front  of  him  the  youngster  fresh  from  college  start 
from  his  seat  in  his  agitation.  He  had  the  curiosity  to  look  at 
the  Count  de  Vandeuvres,  who  was  very  pale,  with  tightly  pressed 
lips  —  the  stout  Steiner,  whose  apoplectic  face  seemed  burst- 
ing—  Labordette  examining  through  his  eyeglass  with  the 
astonished  look  of  a  jockey  admiring  a  thorough-bred  mare  — 
Daguenet,  whose  ears  were  flaming  red,  and  trembling  with  en- 
joyment. Then,  for  an  instant,  he  turned  round,  and  was  amazed 
at  what  he  saw  in  the  MufFats*  box:  behind  the  countess,  who 
was  looking  pale  and  serious,  the  count  had  raised  himself  up, 
his  mouth  wide  open,  and  his  face  blurred  with  red  blotches; 
whilst,  beside  him,  in  the  shadow,  the  troubled  eyes  of  the  Marquis 
de  Chouard  had  become  cat-like  in  appearance,  full  of  phos- 
phorescence and  flecked  with  gold. 

The  heat  was  suffocating;  even  the  hair  weighed  heavily  on 
the  perspiring  heads.  During  the  three  hours  that  the  piece 
had  lasted,  the  foul  breath  had  given  the  atmosphere  an  odour 
of  human  flesh.  In  the  blaze  of  light  the  dust  now  appeared 
thicker,  and  seemed  suspended,  motionless,  beneath  the  big 
crystal  gasalier.  The  audience,  tired  and  excited,  seized  with 
those  drowsy,  midnight  desires  which  murmur  their  wishes  in 
the  depths  of  alcoves,  vacillated,  and  was  gradually  becoming 
dazed.  And  Nana,  facing  this  half-swooning  crowd,  these  fifteen 
hundred  persons,  packed  one  above  the  other,  and  sinking  with 
emotion  and  the  nervous  excitement  of  an  approaching  finale, 
remained  victorious  with  her  marble  flesh,  her  sex  alone  strong 
enough  to  conquer  them  all  and  remain  scathless. 

The  play  was  rapidly  drawing  to  an  end.  In  answer  to  Vul- 
can's triumphant  calls,  all  Olympus  defiled  before  the  lovers, 
uttering  cries  of  stupefaction  or  indulging  in  broad  remarks. 


NANA 

Jupiter  said,  "My  son,  I  consider  you  are  very  foolish  to  call 
us  to  see  this."  Then  there  was  a  sudden  change  of  feeling  in 
favour  of  Venus.  The  deputation  of  cuckolds,  again  introduced 
by  Iris,  beseeched  the  master  of  the  gods  not  to  give  heed  to 
their  petition,  for  since  their  wives  passed  their  evenings  at 
home  they  made  their  lives  unbearable,  so  they  preferred  to  be 
deceived  and  happy,  which  was  the  moral  of  the  piece.  Venus, 
therefore,  was  set  free.  Vulcan  obtained  a  judicial  separation. 
Mars  made  it  up  again  with  Diana.  Jupiter,  for  the  sake  of 
peace  and  quietness  at  home,  sent  the  little  washerwoman  into 
a  constellation;  and  Cupid  was  at  last  released  from  his  prison, 
where  he  had  been  making  paper  fowls,  instead  of  conjugating 
the  verb  "to  love."  The  curtain  fell  on  an  apotheosis,  the  de- 
putation of  cuckolds  kneeling  and  singing  a  hymn  of  gratitude 
to  Venus,  smiling  and  exalted  in  her  sovereign  nudity. 

The  spectators  had  already  risen  from  their  seats,  and  were 
hastily  making  for  the  doors.  The  authors  were  named,  and 
there  was  a  double  call  in  the  midst  of  a  thunder  of  applause. 
The  cry,  "Nana!  Nana!"  re-echoed  again  and  again.  Then, 
before  the  house  was  fairly  empty,  it  became  quite  dark.  The 
foot-lights  were  turned  out,  the  lights  of  the  gasalier  were  lowered, 
and  long  grey  coverings  were  drawn  over  the  gilding  of  the  bal- 
conies; and  the  heat  and  the  noise  suddenly  gave  place  to  a  death- 
like stillness,  and  an  odour  of  dust  and  mildew.  At  the  door  of 
her  box  stood  the  Countess  Muffat,  wrapped  in  her  furs  and 
gazing  into  the  darkness,  as  she  waited  for  the  crowd  to  pass 
away.  In  the  passages  the  jostled  attendants  were  fast  losing 
their  senses  among  the  piles  of  cloaks  and  other  garments.  Fau- 
chery  and  La  Faloise  had  hurried  to  see  the  people  come  out.  In 
the  vestibule  several  gentlemen  were  waiting  in  a  row,  while 
down  the  double  staircase  descended  two  interminable  and  com- 
pact processions. 

Steiner,  led  away  by  Mignon,  was  one  of  the  first  to  leave. 
The  Count  de  Vandeuvres  went  off  with  Blanche  de  Sivry  on  his 
arm.  For  a  moment,  Gaga  and  her  daughter  seemed  embar- 
rassed, but  Labordette  hastened  to  secure  them  a  cab,  and  gal- 
lantly saw  them  into  it.  No  one  noticed  Daguenet  leave.  As 
the  youngster  fresh  from  college,  with  his  cheeks  all  aglow,  bent 
upon  waiting  at  the  stage  door,  hastened  to  the  Passage  des 
Panoramas,  the  gate  of  which  he  found  closed,  Satin,  loitering 

1*7*1 


NANA 

on  the  pavement,  came  and  grazed  him  lightly  with  her  skirts; 
but  he,  quite  broken-hearted,  roughly  declined  her  advances, 
and  disappeared  in  the  crowd,  with  tears  of  powerless  longing 
in  his  eyes.  Some  of  the  spectators,  lighting  cigars,  went  off 
humming  the  song  —  "When  Venus  takes  an  evening  stroll." 
Satin  had  returned  to  the  Cafe  des  Varietes,  where  Augustus 
was  allowing  her  to  eat  the  lumps  of  sugar  left  by  the  customers. 
A  stout  man,  who  was  greatly  excited,  having  just  quitted  the 
theatre,  at  length  took  her  off  into  the  darkness  of  the  now  grad- 
ually hushed  Boulevard. 

The  crowd  still  continued  to  pour  down  the  double  staircase. 
La  Faloise  was  waiting  for  Clarisse,  and  Fauchery  had  prom- 
ised to  escort  Lucy  Stewart,  with  Caroline  Hequet  and  her 
mother.  They  now  arrived,  monopolising  a  whole  corner  of  the 
vestibule  to  themselves,  and  laughing  loudly,  just  as  the  Muffats 
passed,  looking  very  frigid.  At  that  moment  Bordenave,  open- 
ing a  little  door,  appeared,  and  obtained  from  Fauchery  a  dis- 
tinct promise  of  a  notice.  He  was  covered  with  perspiration, 
his  face  as  red  as  though  he  had  had  a  sunstroke,  and  looking 
intoxicated  with  success. 

"Your  piece  will  run  for  two  hundred  nights  at  least,"  said 
La  Faloise,  obligingly.  "All  Paris  will  visit  your  theatre." 

But  Bordenave,  his  rage  getting  the  better  of  him,  indicated, 
with  a  rapid  movement  of  his  chin,  the  crowd  that  filled  the 
vestibule  —  that  mob  of  men  with  parched  mouths  and  sparkling 
eyes,  still  inflamed  with  their  passionate  longing  for  Nana  —  and 
violently  exclaimed:— 

"Say  my  brothel,  can't  you?  you  pig-headed  animal!" 


CHAPTER  II 

THE  next  morning  at  ten  o'clock,  Nana  was  still  sleeping. 
She  occupied,  in  the  Boulevard  HaussmaniVthe  second 
storey  of  a  large  new  house,  the  owner  of  which  was  content 
to  let  to  single  ladies,  in  order  to  get  his  plaster  dried.  A  rich 
merchant  from  Moscow,  who  had  come  to  spend  a  winter  in  Paris, 
had  installed  her  there,  paying  two  quarters'  rent  in  advance. 
The  rooms,  too  large  for  her,  had  never  been  completely  furnished; 
and  a  gaudy  luxury  —  gilded  chairs  and  sideboards  —  contrasted 
with  the  rubbish  of  second-hand  dealers  —  mahogany  tables  and 
zinc  candelabra  imitating  Florentine  bronze.  Everything  be- 
tokened the  damsel  abandoned  too  quickly  by  her  first  genuine 
protector,  and  fallen  back  into  the  clutches  of  unscrupulous 
lovers;  a  most  difficult  debut  miscarried,  and  trammelled  with 
a  loss  of  credit  and  threats  of  eviction. 

Nana  was  sleeping  lying  on  her  stomach,  her  bare  arms  en- 
twining the  pillow  in  which  she  buried  her  face,  all  pale  with 
fatigue.  The  bedroom  and  dressing-room  were  the  only  two  rooms 
to  which  a  neighbouring  upholsterer  had  really  given  his  atten- 
tion. By  the  aid  of  the  faint  streak  of  light  gleaming  between 
the  curtains,  one  could  distinguish  the  violet  ebony  furniture,  the 
blue  and  grey  hangings  and  chair  coverings.  In  the  warm, 
drowsy  atmosphere  of  this  bedchamber  Nana  suddenly  awoke 
with  a  start,  as  though  surprised  to  find  the  place  beside  her 
vacant.  She  looked  at  the  other  pillow  placed  next  to  her  own, 
and  which  still  showed  the  warm  impression  of  a  head  in  the 
midst  of  its  frilling.  Then,  feeling  with  her  hand,  she  pressed 
the  knob  of  an  electric  bell,  placed  at  the  head  of  her  bed. 

"Has  he  gone,  then?"  she  asked  of  the  maid  who  appeared. 

"Yes,  madame.  M.  Paul  left  about  ten  minutes  ago.  As 
madame  was  tired,  he  would  not  wake  her.  But  he  requested 
me  to  tell  madame  that  he  would  come  to-morrow." 

Whilst  speaking,  Zoe,  the  maid,  had  thrown  open  the  shut- 


NANA 

ters.  The  bright  daylight  inundated  the  room.  Zoe  was  very 
dark,  and  wore  a  little  frilled  cap;  her  face,  long  and  pointed 
like  a  dog's,  was  livid  and  scarred,  with  a  flat  nose,  thick  lips, 
and  restless  black  eyes. 

"To-morrow,  to-morrow,"  repeated  Nana,  still  only  half 
awake,  "is  to-morrow  his  day,  then?" 

"Yes,  madame.     M.  Paul  always  conies  on  Wednesdays." 

"Ah!  now  I  recollect!"  exclaimed  the  young  woman,  sitting 
up  in  bed.  "  Everything  is  altered.  I  meant  to  tell  him  so  this 
morning.  He  would  meet  the  blackamoor,  and  then  there  would 
be  no  end  of  a  row!" 

"Madame  did  not  warn  me,  how  was  I  to  know,"  murmured 
Zoe.  "Next  time  madame  alters  her  days,  she  will  do  well  to 
tell  me,  so  that  I  may  act  accordingly.  So  the  old  miser  will 
no  longer  come  on  Tuesdays?" 

It  was  thus  between  themselves,  and  without  a  smile,  that 
they  termed  "old  miser"  and  "blackamoor"  the  two  paying 
gentlemen  of  the  establishment,  a  tradesman  of  the  Faubourg 
Saint-Denis,  of  a  rather  economical  temperament,  and  a  Wal- 
lachian,  a  pretended  count,  whose  money,  always  long  in  coming, 
had  a  most  singular  odour.  Daguenet  had  secured  for  himself 
the  morrows  of  the  old  miser;  as  the  tradesman  had  to  be  at  his 
shop  by  eight  in  the  morning,  the  young  man  watched  in  Zoe's 
kitchen  until  he  took  his  departure,  and  then  jumped  into  the 
warm  place  he  had  just  vacated,  where  he  remained  until  ten 
o'clock,  when  he  also  went  off  to  his  business.  Nana  and  he 
thought  this  arrangement  very  convenient. 

"Never  mind!"  said  she,  "I  will  write  to  him  this  afternoon. 
And,  if  by  chance  he  doesn't  receive  my  letter,  you  must  not 
let  him  in  when  he  calls  to-morrow." 

Zoe  walked  softly  about  the  room.  She  talked  of  the  great 
success  of  the  previous  evening.  Madame  had  shown  such 
talent,  she  sang  so  well!  Ah!  madame  need  not  bother  herself 
now  about  the  future!" 

Nana,  her  elbow  buried  in  the  pillow7,  only  answered  by  nod- 
ding her  head.  Her  chemise  had  slipped  from  her  shoulders, 
over  which  fell  her  unkempt  hair. 

"No  doubt,"  she  murmured,  musingly;  "but  how  can  we 
manage  to  wait?  I  shall  have  all  sorts  of  annoyances  to-day. 
By  the  way,  has  the  landlord  sent  yet  this  morning?" 

C30] 


NANA 

Then  they  both  began  to  discuss  ways  and  means.  There 
were  three  quarters'  rent  owing,  and  the  landlord  threatened  to 
put  in  an  execution.  Besides  him,  there  was  a  host  of  other 
creditors,  a  job-master,  a  linen-draper,  a  dressmaker,  a  coal  mer- 
chant, and  several  others,  who  came  every  day  and  installed 
themselves  on  a  bench  in  the  anteroom;  the  coal  merchant, 
especially,  made  himself  most  obnoxious,  he  shouted  on  the 
stairs.  But  Nana's  greatest  worry  was  her  little  Louis,  a  child 
she  had  had  when  only  sixteen,  and  whom  she  had  placed  out 
to  nurse  in  a  village  near  Rambouillet.  The  nurse  demanded 
three  hundred  francs  owing  to  her  before  she  would  give  up 
Louis.  Nana's  maternal  love  had  been  aroused  ever  since  her 
last  visit  to  the  child,  and  she  was  in  despair  at  not  being  able 
to  realize  what  had  now  become  her  most  ardent  wish,  which 
was  to  pay  the  nurse,  and  place  the  child  at  BatignoIIes  with 
her  aunt,  Madame  Lerat,  so  that  she  could  see  him  whenever 
she  wished.  The  maid,  at  this  point,  hinted  that  she  ought  to 
have  confided  her  troubles  to  the  old  miser. 

"I  know!"  exclaimed  Nana,  "and  I  did  tell  him  everything; 
but  he  replied  that  he  had  some  very  heavy  bills  to  meet.  He 
won't  part  with  more  than  his  thousand  francs  a  month.  As 
for  the  blackamoor,  he's  quite  stumped  just  now;  I  think  he's 
been  losing  at  cards.  And  poor  Mimi  is  really  in  want  of  money 
himself;  a  fall  in  stocks  has  cleared  him  out  completely.  He 
can't  even  bring  me  any  flowers  now." 

She  was  speaking  of  Daguenet.  On  awaking  in  the  morning 
she  always  felt  in  a  confidential  mood,  and  told  Zoe  everything. 
The  maid,  accustomed  to  such  outpourings,  listened  with  re- 
spectful sympathy.  As  madame  deigned  to  talk  to  her  of  her 
affairs,  she  would  take  the  liberty  of  giving  her  opinion.  First 
of  all,  though,  she  could  not  help  saying  that  she  loved  madame 
very  much;  it  was  for  that  reason  that  she  had  left  Madame 
Blanche,  and  God  knew  that  Madame  Blanche  was  doing  all 
she  could  to  get  her  to  return  to  her!  She  was  well  known,  and 
would  never  have  any  difficulty  in  obtaining  a  situation;  but 
she  would  remain  with  madame,  even  though  things  were  not 
very  brilliant,  because  she  believed  madame  had  a  great  future 
before  her.  And  she  ended  by  giving  her  advice.  When  one  was 
young,  one  did  very  foolish  things.  Now  it  was  necessary  to  be 
very  careful,  for  men  only  thought  of  amusing  themselves.  And 


NANA 

there  would  be  no  end  of  them!  If  madame  liked  she  would  only 
have  a  word  to  say  to  quiet  her  creditors  and  procure  the  money 
she  was  in  want  of. 

"All  that  does  not  give  me  three  hundred  francs,"  Nana  kept 
repeating,  as  she  passed  her  fingers  through  her  hair.  "I  want 
three  hundred  francs  to-day,  at  once.  How  stupid  it  is  not  know- 
ing someone  who  would  give  three  hundred  francs." 

And  she  tried  to  think  of  some  means  of  obtaining  the  money. 
She  was  expecting  Madame  Lerat  that  very  morning,  and  she 
would  have  liked  so  much  to  have  sent  her  off  at  once  to  Ram- 
bouillet.  Her  inability  to  gratify  her  whim  quite  spoilt  her 
triumph  of  the  preceding  night.  To  think  that  among  all  those 
men  who  had  greeted  her  with  such  applause  there  was  not  one 
who  would  bring  her  fifteen  louis!  Besides,  she  could  not  accept 
money  in  that  way.  Oh,  how  miserable  she  was!  And  then  she 
thought  of  her  baby:  his  blue  eyes  were  like  an  angel's;  he  could 
just  lisp  "Mamma"  in  such  a  funny  tone  of  voice  that  it  almost 
made  her  die  with  laughing! 

Just  then  the  electric  bell  of  the  outer  door  sounded,  with 
its  rapid  and  trembling  vibration.  After  going  to  see  who  was 
there,  Zoe  returned,  and  whispered  confidentially: 

"It  is  a  woman." 

She  had  already  seen  this  woman  at  least  twenty  times,  only 
she  pretended  never  to  recognise  her,  and  to  ignore  the  nature  of 
her  dealings  with  ladies  down  in  their  luck. 

"She  told  me  her  name  —  Madame  Tricon." 

"Old  Tricon!"  exclaimed  Nana.  "Why,  I  forgot  all  about 
her!  I  will  see  her." 

Zoe  ushered  in  a  tall  old  lady,  wearing  long  curls,  and  looking 
like  a  countess  frequently  visiting  her  solicitor.  Then  she  re- 
tired, disappeared  without  noise,  with  the  snake-like  movement 
with  which  she  left  a  room  when  a  gentleman  called.  She  might 
just  as  well,  however,  have  remained  where  she  was.  Old  Madame 
Tricon  did  not  even  sit  down.  She  only  uttered  a  few  short  words. 

"I  have  somebody  for  you  to-day.    Are  you  willing?" 

"Yes.     How  much?" 

"Twenty  louis." 

"And  at  what  time?" 

"At  three  o'clock.     Then,  that's  settled?" 

"Yes,  that's  settled." 

C3O 


NANA 

Madame  Tricon  immediately  began  to  talk  of  the  weather-, 
it  was  very  dry,  and  good  for  walking.  She  had  still  to  call  on 
four  or  five  persons;  and  off  she  went,  after  consulting  a  little 
note-book.  Nana,  left  alone,  felt  a  weight  lifted  off  her  mind. 
A  slight  shiver  passed  across  her  back;  she  slowly  drew  the 
warm  clothes  over  her,  with  the  indolence  of  a  chilly  cat.  Little 
by  little  her  eyes  closed;  she  smiled  at  the  idea  of  prettily  dressing 
little  Louis  on  the  morrow;  then,  in  the  sleep  which  at  length 
overtook  her,  her  feverish  dream  of  the  night,  a  prolonged  thunder 
of  applause,  returned  like  a  thorough-bass,  and  lulled  her  weari- 
ness. At  twelve  o'clock,  when  Zoe  showed  Madame  Lerat  into 
the  room,  Nana  was  still  sleeping.  But  the  noise  awoke  her,  and 
she  at  once  said: 

"Ah!  it's  you.    You  will  go  to  Rambouillet  to-day?" 

"I  came  for  that,"  replied  the  aunt.  "There  is  a  train  at 
twenty  past  twelve.  I  have  time  to  catch  it." 

"No,  I  shall  only  have  the  money  this  afternoon,"  said  the 
young  woman,  stretching  herself,  her  breasts  rising  as  she  did  so. 
"You  will  have  some  lunch,  and  then  we  will  see." 

Zoe  whispered,  as  she  brought  her  a  dressing-gown,  "Madame, 
the  hairdresser  is  there." 

But  Nana  would  not  retire  into  her  dressing-room.  She  called 
out: 

"Come  in,   Francis." 

A  gentleman,  very  stylishly  dressed,  pushed  open  the  door. 
He  bowed.  Just  at  that  moment  Nana  was  getting  out  of  bed, 
her  legs  quite  bare.  Without  hurrying  herself,  she  held  out 
her  arms,  so  that  Zoe  could  pass  the  sleeves  of  the  dressing- 
gown  on  to  them;  and  Francis,  quite  at  his  ease,  waited  in  a 
dignified  manner,  and  without  looking  away.  Then,  when  she 
had  seated  herself,  and  he  had  passed  the  comb  through  her 
hair,  he  spoke: 

"Madame  has,  perhaps,  not  yet  read  the  papers?  There  is 
a  very  good  article  in  the  *  Figaro.'" 

As  he  had  the  paper  with  him,  Madame  Lerat  put  on  her 
spectacles,  and  read  the  article  out  loud,  standing  in  front  of 
the  window.  She  drew  up  to  her  full  trooper-like  stature,  her 
nostrils  contracted  each  time  she  came  to  an  adjective  excep- 
tionally gallant.  It  was  a  notice  of  Fauchery's,  written  directly 
after  leaving  the  theatre  —  two  very  warm  columns,  full  of 

C333 


NANA 

witty  but  unkind  remarks,  so  far  as  regarded  the  actress,  and 
of  a  brutish  admiration  for  the  woman. 

"Excellent!  excellent!"  kept  repeating  Francis. 

Nana  didn't  care  a  button  for  the  chaff  about  her  voice!  He 
was  a  nice  fellow,  that  Fauchery;  all  the  same,  she'd  pay  him 
out  for  his  pleasant  little  ways!  After  reading  the  article  a  second 
time,  Madame  Lerat  abruptly  declared  that  all  the  men  had  the 
devil  in  the  calves  of  their  legs;  and  she  refused  to  explain  fur- 
ther, satisfied  with  having  made  this  racy  allusion,  which  she  alone 
was  able  to  understand.  Meanwhile  Francis  had  finished  fasten- 
ing up  Nana's  hair.  He  bowed  and  said, 

"I  shall  have  my  eye  on  the  evening  papers.  The  same  time 
as  usual,  I  suppose  —  at  half-past  five?" 

"Bring  me  a  pot  of  pomatum  and  a  pound  of  burnt  almonds 
from  Boissier's!"  Nana  called  after  him  across  the  drawing- 
room,  just  as  he  was  shutting  the  door. 

Then  the  two  women,  left  alone,  remembered  that  they  had 
not  kissed  each  other,  so  they  cordially  embraced  one  another 
on  the  cheek.  The  article  had  rather  excited  them.  Nana, 
until  then  only  half  awake,  again  felt  all  the  fever  of  her  triumph. 
Ah!  Rose  Mignon  must  have  spent  a  very  pleasant  morning! 
As  her  aunt  had  not  been  to  the  theatre,  because,  as  she  said, 
all  emotion  upset  her  stomach,  she  began  to  relate  the  events  of 
the  evening,  the  recital  intoxicating  her  as  though  Paris  itself 
had  crumbled  beneath  the  applause.  Then,  suddenly  interrupt- 
ing herself,  she  asked,  with  a  laugh,  if  anyone  would  ever  have 
expected  as  much  in  the  days  when  she  dragged  her  blackguard 
little  person  about  the  Rue  de  la  Goutte  d'Or.  Madame  Lerat 
shook  her  head.  No,  no;  no  one  could  ever  have  foreseen  it. 
She  spoke  in  her  turn  in  a  grave  tone  of  voice,  and  calling  her  her 
daughter.  For  wasn't  she  her  second  mother,  now  that  the  real 
one  had  gone  to  join  the  papa  and  the  grandma.  Nana,  greatly 
affected,  was  on  the  point  of  shedding  tears.  But  Madame 
Lerat  said  that  by-gones  were  by-gones,  and  very  filthy  by-gones 
too!  things  that  should  not  be  touched  upon  every  day  in  the 
week.  For  a  long  while  she  had  given  up  seeing  her  niece,  for 
the  other  members  of  the  family  accused  her  of  going  to  the  bad 
in  her  company.  As  if,  great  heavens!  such  a  thing  were  possible! 
She  did  not  want  to  know  her  niece's  secrets;  she  was  sure  that 
the  latter  had  always  led  a  respectable  life.  And  now  she 

£343 


NANA 

was  satisfied  with  finding  her  in  a  good  position,  and  seeing  tnat 
she  entertained  a  motherly  feeling  for  her  son.  In  this  world, 
after  all,  there  was  nothing  to  beat  honesty  and  work. 

"Who  is  the  father  of  your  baby?"  she  asked,  suddenly  inter- 
rupting her  sermon,  her  eyes  lighted  up  with  intense  curiosity. 

Nana,  surprised,  hesitated  for  a  second.  "A  gentleman," 
she  replied. 

"Ah!"  resumed  the  aunt,  "I  was  told  it  was  a  mason  who 
used  to  beat  you.  Well,  you  can  tell  me  all  about  it  some  other 
day;  you  know  that  I  can  be  trusted!  Be  easy,  I  will  take  as 
great  care  of  him  as  though  he  was  the  son  of  a  prince." 

She  had  given  up  her  artificial  flower-making  business  and 
retired  on  her  savings  —  six  hundred  francs  a  year  —  hoarded  up 
sou  by  sou.  Nana  promised  to  take  some  nice  rooms  for  her, 
besides  which  she  would  allow  her  one  hundred  francs  a  month. 
When  she  heard  this  the  aunt  quite  forgot  herself  in  her  delight, 
and  impressed  upon  her  niece  that  she  should  squeeze  them  whilst 
she  had  the  chance.  She  was  alluding  to  the  men.  Then  they 
kissed  each  other  again.  But  Nana,  in  the  midst  of  her  joy, 
and  just  as  she  had  once  more  begun  to  talk  of  little  Louis,  seemed 
to  get  sad  at  some  sudden  recollection. 

"What  a  nuisance  it  is:  I  have  to  go  out  at  three  o'clock!" 
she  murmured.  "It's  an  awful  bore!" 

At  that  moment  Zoe  came  to  say  that  the  lunch  was  ready. 
They  went  into  the  dining-room,  where  they  found  an  elderly 
lady  already  seated  at  the  table.  She  had  not  taken  her  bonnet 
off,  and  was  dressed  in  a  dark  gown  of  no  precise  colour,  but 
something  between  puce  and  goose  droppings.  Nana  did  not 
seem  surprised  at  seeing  her  there.  She  merely  asked  her  why 
she  had  not  gone  into  the  bedroom. 

"I  heard  voices,"  answered  the  old  lady.  "I  thought  you 
were  engaged." 

Madame  Maloir,  who  had  a  respectable  appearance  and  dis- 
tinguished ways,  acted  as  Nana's  old  lady  friend.  She  enter- 
tained her  and  accompanied  her  about.  At  first,  Madame  Lerat's 
presence  seemed  to  make  her  uneasy;  but  when  she  learnt  that 
the  stranger  was  only  the  aunt,  she  looked  at  her  in  quite  a  pleas- 
ant sort  of  a  way,  and  smiled  faintly.  However,  Nana,  who  said 
her  stomach  had  gone  right  down  into  her  heels,  started  on  some 
radishes,  which  she  devoured  without  any  bread.  Madame 


NANA 

Lerat,  becoming  very  ceremonious,  declined  the  radishes,  saying 
they  produced  wind.  Then,  when  Zoe  brought  in  some  cutlets, 
Nana  played  with  the  meat,  and  ended  by  merely  sucking  the 
bone.  Now  and  again  she  cast  a  glance  in  the  direction  of  her 
old  friend's  bonnet. 

"Is  that  the  new  bonnet  I  gave  you?"  she  eventually  asked. 

"Yes,  I  have  altered  it  to  suit  me,"  murmured  Madame  Maloir, 
with  her  mouth  full. 

The  bonnet  looked  frightful  with  the  big  feather  she  had  stuck 
in  it.  Madame  Maloir  had  a  mania  for  re-making  up  all  her 
bonnets:  she  alone  knew  what  suited  her,  and  in  a  minute  she 
would  utterly  spoil  the  most  elegant  article.  Nana,  who  had 
bought  her  the  bonnet  so  as  not  to  feel  ashamed  every  time  she 
went  out  with  her,  began  to  get  angry. 

"Well!  you  might  at  least  take  it  off!"  she  cried. 

"No,  thank  you,"  the  old  lady  replied  most  politely,  "It 
does  not  trouble  me.  I  can  eat  very  well  with  it  on." 

After  the  cutlets  came  some  cauliflower  and  the  remains  of 
a  cold  chicken.  But  Nana  turned  up  her  nose  at  each  dish  put 
upon  the  table,  and  left  her  food  untouched  on  her  plate.  After 
smelling  everything  and  hesitating  what  to  take,  she  finished 
her  lunch  with  some  jam.  The  dessert  lasted  some  time,  and 
Zoe  did  not  remove  the  cloth  before  serving  the  coffee;  the 
ladies  merely  pushed  away  their  plates.  They  talked  of  the 
great  success  achieved  at  the  theatre  the  previous  evening. 
Nana  was  making  cigarettes,  which  she  smoked  as  she  leant 
back  in  her  chair;  and  Zoe,  having  remained  in  the  room,  stand- 
ing up  against  the  sideboard  swinging  her  arms  about,  at  length 
began  relating  the  story  of  her  life.  She  said  that  she  was  the 
daughter  of  a  midwife,  who  had  got  into  trouble.  First  of  all 
she  obtained  a  situation  at  a  dentist's,  then  with  an  agent  for 
an  insurance  company,  but  she  did  not  like  it;  and  then  she 
mentioned,  with  a  touch  of  pride  in  her  voice,  the  names  of  the 
different  ladies  with  whom  she  had  lived  as  lady's-maid.  Zoe 
spoke  of  these  ladies  as  though  they  owed  her  everything.  For 
certain,  more  than  one  of  them  would  have  got  into  a  nice  mess 
had  it  not  been  for  her.  For  instance,  one  day  that  Madame 
Blanche  was  with  M.  Octave,  the  old  gentleman  unexpectedly 
arrived.  What  did  Zoe  do?  She  pretended  to  fall  down  as  she 
passed  through  the  drawing-room;  the  old  gentleman  hastened 

C363 


NANA 

to  help  her,  and  then  rushed  off  to  the  kitchen  to  get  her  a  glass 
of  water,  while  M.  Octave  got  clear  away. 

"Ah!  that  was  capital!"  exclaimed  Nana,  who  had  listened 
with  a  tender  interest  and  a  sort  of  obsequious  admiration. 

"As  for  me,  I  have  met  with  many  misfortunes,"  commenced 
Madame  Lerat.  And  drawing  her  chair  close  to  Madame 
Maloir,  she  related  to  her  various  incidents  of  her  private  life. 
They  were  both  sucking  lumps  of  sugar  which  they  had  pre- 
viously dipped  in  their  coffee.  But  Madame  Maloir  listened  to 
the  secrets  of  others  without  ever  letting  out  a  word  about  her- 
self. It  was  said  that  she  lived  on  a  mysterious  pension,  in  a 
room  into  which  she  never  allowed  any  one  to  enter. 

All  of  a  sudden  Nana  flew  into  a  passion.  "Aunt!"  she  cried, 
"don't  play  with  the  knives.  You  know  that  it  always  upsets 
me." 

Without  thinking  of  what  she  was  doing,  Madame  Lerat  had 
crossed  two  of  the  knives  on  the  table.  All  the  same  the  young 
woman  pretended  she  was  not  superstitious.  For  instance, 
spilling  salt  never  affected  her,  neither  did  anything  happening 
on  a  Friday;  but  crossed  knives  was  more  than  she  could  stand, 
they  had  never  misled  her.  For  certain,  something  disagree- 
able would  happen  to  her.  She  yawned,  and  in  a  tone  of  vexa- 
tion, said,  "Already  two  o'clock.  I  shall  have  to  go  out.  What 
a  nuisance!"  The  two  old  women  exchanged  a  glance.  Then 
all  three  shook  their  heads  without  speaking.  True,  it  was  not 
always  amusing  to  have  to  go  out.  Nana  was  again  leaning 
back  in  her  chair,  and  smoking  another  cigarette,  whilst  the 
others  discreetly  kept  their  lips  tight,  and  put  on  their  most 
philosophical  looks. 

"While  you  are  gone,  we  will  have  a  game  at  bezique,"  said 
Madame  Maloir,  after  a  short  silence.  "Does  madame  know 
the  game?" 

Of  course  Madame  Lerat  did,  and  played  it  better  than  any 
one.  It  was  not  necessary  to  disturb  Zoe,  who  had  left  the  room ; 
a  corner  of  the  table  was  all  they  wanted,  so  they  turned  the 
cloth  up  over  the  dirty  plates.  But,  just  as  Madame  Maloir  had 
got  the  cards  out  of  a  drawer  of  the  sideboard,  Nana  said  she 
would  be  very  good  if,  before  commencing  the  game,  she  would 
write  a  letter  for  her.  It  bothered  her  to  write,  and  besides, 
she  was  not  very  sure  of  her  spelling,  whilst  her  old  friend  wrote 


NANA 

letters  so  well.  She  ran  and  fetched  from  her  bedroom  some 
beautiful  note-paper.  A  common  three  sou  ink-bottle  was 
lying  about,  with  a  rusty  old  pen.  The  letter  was  for  Daguenet. 
Madame  Maloir  commenced  in  her  beautiful  round  hand,  "My 
darling  little  man,"  and  then  she  proceeded  to  tell  him  not  to 
come  on  the  morrow,  because  "it  could  not  be,"  but  "far  or 
near,  every  moment  in  the  day,  she  was  thinking  of  him." 

"And  I  will  end  with  a  thousand  kisses,"  murmured  Madame 
Maloir. 

Madame  Lerat  had  approved  each  phrase  with  a  nod  of  her 
head.  Her  eyes  sparkled:  she  had  a  weakness  for  being  mixed 
up  in  love  affairs.  So  she  could  not  resist  adding  something 
of  her  own. 

"A  thousand  kisses  on  your  beautiful  eyes,"  she  cooed,  with  a 
tender  look. 

"Yes,  that's  it:    'A  thousand  kisses  on  your  beautiful  eyes!' ' 
repeated  Nana,  whilst  a  sanctimonious  expression  overspread  the 
features  of  the  two  old  women. 

They  rang  for  Zoe,  for  her  to  give  the  letter  to  a  commission- 
naire.  She  was  just  then  talking  with  a  messenger  from  the  theatre 
who  had  brought  madame  a  communication  from  the  stage- 
manager,  which  should  have  been  sent  to  her  in  the  morning. 
Nana  had  the  man  in,  and  asked  him  to  leave  the  letter  at  Dague- 
net's  on  his  way  back.  Then  she  began  to  question  him.  Oh! 
M.  Bordenave  was  very  pleased;  all  the  seats  were  booked  for 
a  week  at  least;  madame  had  no  idea  of  the  number  of  persons 
who  had  inquired  for  her  address  since  the  morning.  When  the 
messenger  had  left,  Nana  said  that  she  would  not  be  away  more 
than  half  an  hour  at  the  most.  If  any  visitors  called,  Zoe  was  to 
ask  them  to  wait.  As  she  spoke,  the  electric  bell  of  the  outer  door 
sounded.  It  was  one  of  the  creditors,  the  job-master;  he  had 
taken  a  seat  on  the  bench  of  the  anteroom.  Oh!  he  might  wait 
and  twirl  his  thumbs  until  night-time;  they  were  not  going  to 
disturb  themselves  for  him. 

"I  must  pull  myself  together,"  said  Nana  lazily,  again  stretch- 
ing herself  and  yawning.  "  I  ought  to  be  there  by  now." 

All  the  same  she  did  not  move.  She  watched  the  game,  in 
which  her  aunt  had  just  scored  a  hundred  aces.  Her  chin  in  her 
hand,  she  was  becoming  interested;  but  she  suddenly  started  on 
hearing  three  o'clock  strike. 


NANA 

"Damn  it!"  she  roughly  exclaimed. 

Then  Madame  Maloir,  who  was  counting  the  tens,  said  to  her 
in  a  gentle,  encouraging  voice,  "My  child,  you  would  do  better 
to  get  your  business  over  at  once." 

"Yes,  be  quick  over  it,"  added  Madame  Lerat,  as  she  shuffled 
the  cards.  "I  shall  be  able  to  leave  by  the  half-past  four  train, 
if  you  are  here  with  the  money  by  four  o'clock." 

"Oh!  it  won't  take  long,"  she  muttered  in  reply. 

In  ten  minutes  Zoe  had  helped  her  to  put  on  a  dress  and  bon- 
net. She  didn't  care  if  she  looked  untidy.  Just  as  she  was  about 
to  go  off,  there  was  another  ring  at  the  bell.  This  time  it  was  the 
coal  merchant.  Well!  he  could  keep  the  job-master  company; 
they  might  entertain  each  other.  To  avoid  a  row,  however,  she 
passed  through  the  kitchen,  and  went  out  by  the  servants'  stair- 
case. She  often  went  that  way;  all  she  had  to  do  was  to  keep 
her  skirts  from  touching  the  ground. 

"When  one  is  a  good  mother,  the  rest  is  of  no  consequence," 
sententiously  observed  Madame  Maloir,  now  left  alone  with 
Madame  Lerat. 

"I  mark  eighty  kings,"  replied  the  latter,  who  had  a  great 
weakness  for  cards.  And  they  both  became  more  and  more 
wrapped  up  in  the  game. 

The  table  had  not  been  cleared.  A  mixed  odour  pervaded  the 
room  —  the  fumes  of  the  lunch  and  the  smoke  of  the  cigarettes. 
The  two  ladies  returned  to  their  lumps  of  sugar  soaked  in  coffee. 
For  twenty  minutes  they  played  as  they  sipped,  when,  the  bell 
having  rung  a  third  time,  Zoe  bounced  into  the  room,  and  jostled 
them  in  a  most  familiar  manner. 

"I  say!"  she  exclaimed,  "there's  another  ring.  You  won't  be 
able  to  remain  in  here.  If  many  more  people  are  coming,  I  shall 
want  every  room  in  the  place.  Now,  then,  up  you  get!  up  you 
get!" 

Madame  Maloir  wanted  to  finish  the  game;  but  Zoe  having 
made  a  feint  of  gathering  up  the  cards,  she  decided  to  remove 
them  carefully,  without  disturbing  anything,  whilst  Madame  Lerat 
secured  the  brandy  bottle,  some  glasses,  and  the  sugar,  and  they 
both  hastened  into  the  kitchen,  where  they  placed  their  things 
on  an  end  of  the  table  between  some  dirty  cloths  that  were  drying 
and  a  large  bowl  full  of  greasy  water. 

"I'm  three  hundred  and  forty.    It's  your  play." 

C393 


NANA 

"I  lead  hearts." 

When  Zoe  returned,  she  found  them  once  more  deep  in  the 
game.  After  a  short  silence,  and  as  Madame  Lerat  gathered  up 
the  cards  and  shuffled  them,  Madame  Maloir  asked: 

"Who  was  it?" 

"Oh!  no  one,"  answered  the  maid,  carelessly,  "only  a  youngster. 
I  ought  to  have  sent  him  about  his  business;  but  he  is  so  pretty, 
without  a  hair  on  his  face,  and  with  blue  eyes  and  such  a  girlish 
figure,  that  I  told  him  he  could  wait.  He  has  an  enormous  bou- 
quet in  his  hand,  and  he  won't  leave  go  of  it.  He  deserves  to 
be  whipped,  a  brat  who  ought  still  to  be  at  college!" 

Madame  Lerat  got  up  to  fetch  hot  water  to  concoct  some  grog; 
the  sugar  and  coffee  had  made  her  thirsty.  Zoe  murmured  that,  all 
the  same,  she  could  manage  some  as  well.  Her  mouth  had  a  bitter 
taste  like  gall. 

"Well,  and  where  have  you  put  him?"  resumed  Madame 
Maloir. 

"Why,  in  the  little  spare  room  that  isn't  furnished?  It  just 
holds  one  of  madame's  trunks  and  a  table.  That's  where  I  put 
such  youngsters." 

And  she  was  sweetening  her  grog  with  several  lumps  of  sugar, 
when  another  ring  at  the  bell  made  her  jump.  Hang  it  all!  wasn't 
she  to  be  allowed  to  have  a  drink  in  peace,  now?  If  what  they  had 
already  had  was  only  the  beginning  of  it,  it  promised  to  be  lively. 
However,  she  hastened  to  see  who  was  there.  Then,  when  she 
returned,  seeing  Madame  Maloir's  questioning  look,  "Only  a  bou- 
quet," she  observed. 

They  all  three  drank,  after  nodding  to  each  other.  The  bell 
rang  again  twice,  as  Zoe,  at  last,  cleared  the  table,  carrying  the 
dirty  plates  to  the  sink  one  by  one.  But  all  this  ringing  was  for 
nothing  of  any  consequence.  She  kept  the  occupants  of  the  kitchen 
well  informed.  Twice  she  came  and  repeated  her  disdainful  phrase 
—  "Only  a  bouquet." 

However,  the  ladies  had  a  good  laugh  between  two  of  the  deals, 
as  she  told  them  of  the  looks  of  the  creditors  in  the  anteroom 
when  the  flowers  were  brought.  Madame  would  find  her  bouquets 
on  her  dressing-table.  What  a  pity  it  was  that  they  cost  so  much, 
and  that  one  couldn't  even  raise  ten  sous  on  them!  Well,  there 
was  a  good  deal  of  money  wasted  in  the  world. 

"For  myself,"  said  Madame  Maloir,  "I  should  be  satisfied  if  I 

C40] 


NANA 

had  every  day  what  the  men  spend  on  the  flowers  they  give  the 
women  in  Paris." 

"I  daresay,  you  are  not  at  all  hard  to  please,"  murmured 
Madame  Lerat.  "If  I  had  only  the  money  spent  on  the  wire 
alone.  My  dear,  sixty  queens." 

It  was  ten  minutes  to  four.  Zoe  was  surprised  —  could  not 
understand  at  all  how  madame  could  remain  out  so  long.  Gen- 
erally, when  madame  found  herself  obliged  to  go  out  in  the  after- 
noon, she  got  it  over  in  less  than  no  time.  But  Madame  Maloir 
observed  that  one  was  not  always  able  to  do  as  one  would  wish. 
One  certainly  met  with  many  obstacles  in  life,  declared  Madame 
Lerat.  The  best  thing  to  do  was  to  wait.  If  her  niece  was  late 
it  was  because  she  had  been  detained,  was  it  not?  Besides,  they 
had  nothing  to  complain  of.  It  was  very  comfortable  in  the  kitchen. 
And,  as  she  had  no  more  hearts  in  her  hand,  Madame  Lerat 
played  diamonds.  The  electric  bell  was  again  set  in  motion. 
When  Zoe  reappeared  her  face  was  quite  radiant. 

"Fatty  Steiner!  girls,"  said  she  in  a  whisper,  as  soon  as  she  got 
her  head  in  at  the  door.  "  I  put  him  in  the  parlour." 

Then  Madame  Maloir  talked  of  the  banker  to  Madame  Lerat, 
who  did  not  know  any  of  that  class  of  gentlemen.  Was  he  going 
to  chuck  up  Rose  Mignon?  Zoe  wagged  her  head;  she  knew  many 
things.  But  she  was  again  obliged  to  go  and  answer  the  bell. 

"Well!  this  beats  everything!"  she  murmured  on  returning. 
"  It's  the  blackamoor!  It  was  no  use,  though  I  told  him  again  and 
again  that  madame  was  out;  he  has  gone  and  made  himself  com- 
fortable in  the  bedroom.  We  did  not  expect  him  till  this  evening." 

At  a  quarter  past  four  Nana  was  still  absent.  What  could  she 
be  doing?  It  was  most  absurd  of  her.  Then  two  more  bouquets 
were  brought.  Zoe,  not  knowing  what  to  do  with  herself,  looked 
to  see  if  there  was  any  more  coffee.  Yes,  the  ladies  would  willingly 
finish  the  coffee,  it  would  wake  them  up  again.  They  were  falling 
asleep,  settled  in  their  chairs,  and  continuously  drawing  cards 
from  the  pack  with  the  same  movement  of  their  arms.  The  half 
past  struck.  Something,  surely,  must  have  happened  to  madame, 
they  whispered  to  each  other. 

All  of  a  sudden,  Madame  Maloir,  forgetting  herself,  exclaimed 
in  a  loud  voice  —  "Double  bezique!  Five  hundred!" 

"Hold  your  row!  will  you?"  cried  Zoe,  angrily.  "What  will  all 
those  gentlemen  think?" 

£413 


NANA 

And  in  the  silence  which  reigned,  with  the  exception  of  a  slight 
murmur,  caused  by  the  disputes  of  the  two  old  women,  was  heard 
the  sound  of  hastily  approaching  footsteps  on  the  servants'  stair- 
case. It  was  Nana  at  last.  Before  she  opened  the  door  one  could 
hear  her  panting.  She  entered  looking  very  red,  and  very  abrupt 
in  manner.  Her  skirt,  the  strings  of  which  had  probably  broken, 
had  dragged  over  the  stairs,  and  the  flounces  had  soaked  in  a  regular 
pool  —  some  filth  that  had  flowed  from  the  first  floor,  where  the 
cook  was  a  perfect  slut. 

"Here  you  are  at  last!  well,  it's  fortunate!"  said  Madame  Lerat, 
with  a  nasty  look  about  her  mouth,  and  still  put  out  by  Madame 
Maloir's  double  bezique.  "  You  can  flatter  yourself  that  you  know 
how  to  keep  people  waiting!" 

"Madame  is  really  very  foolish!"  added  Zoe. 

Nana,  already  out  of  temper,  became  exasperated  by  these  re- 
proaches. Was  that  the  way  to  receive  her  after  all  the  unpleasant- 
ness she  had  gone  through? 

"Mind  your  own  business,  can't  you?"  she  cried. 

"Hush!  madame,  there  are  some  people  here,  "  said  the  maid. 

So,  lowering  her  voice,  the  young  woman  faltered,  all  out  of 
breath,  "Do  you  think  I've  been  amusing  myself?  I  thought  I 
should  never  have  been  able  to  get  away.  I  should  have  liked  to 
have  seen  you  in  my  place.  I  was  boiling.  I  was  on  the  point  of 
using  my  fists.  And  then,  not  a  cab  to  be  got  to  come  back  in. 
Fortunately  it's  close  by.  All  the  same,  I  ran  as  fast  as  I  could." 

"Have  you  the  money?"  asked  the  aunt. 

"What  a  question!"  replied  Nana. 

She  had  seated  herself  in  a  chair  close  to  the  grate,  her  legs 
almost  too  tired  to  bear  her,  and,  before  she  had  even  recovered 
her  breath,  she  felt  inside  the  body  of  her  dress  and  drew  forth  an 
envelope,  in  which  were  four  bank-notes  of  one  hundred  francs 
each.  One  could  see  the  notes  by  a  large  tear  she  had  made  in 
the  envelope  with  her  finger  so  as  to  make  sure  of  what  it  contained. 
The  three  women  around  her  looked  fixedly  at  the  envelope  of 
common  paper,  all  crumpled  and  dirtied,  in  her  little  gloved  hands. 
It  was  too  late;  Madame  Lerat  should  not  go  to  Rambouillet 
till  the  next  day.  Nana  began  to  give  her  various  instructions. 

"Madame,  there  are  some  people  waiting,"  repeated  the  maid. 

But  she  again  flew  into  a  passion.  The  people  could  wait. 
She  would  attend  to  them  by-and-by,  when  she  had  settled  what 


NANA 

she  was  about.  Then,  as  her  aunt  put  out  her  hand  to  take  the 
money,  "Oh!  no,  not  all,"  said  she.  "Three  hundred  francs  for 
the  nurse,  fifty  francs  for  your  journey  and  expenses,  that  makes 
three  hundred  and  fifty.  I  shall  keep  fifty  francs." 

The  great  difficulty  was  to  get  change.  There  were  not  ten 
francs  in  the  place.  They  did  not  ask  Madame  Maloir,  who  was 
listening  with  an  uninterested  look,  for  she  never  had  with  her 
more  than  the  six  sous  necessary  for  an  omnibus.  At  length 
Zoe  left  them,  saying  that  she  would  go  and  look  in  her  trunk,  and 
she  shortly  returned  with  a  hundred  francs,  all  in  five  franc  pieces. 
They  counted  them  on  the  corner  of  the  table.  Madame  Lerat 
went  off  at  once,  promising  to  fetch  little  Louis  on  the  morrow. 

"You  say  there  are  some  people  waiting?"  resumed  Nana,  still 
sitting  down,  resting. 

"Yes,  madame,  three  persons." 

And  Zoe  named  the  banker  first.  Nana  pouted  her  lip.  Did 
that  Steiner  think  she  was  going  to  stand  any  of  his  nonsense, 
just  because  he  had  had  a  bouquet  thrown  to  her  on  the  previous 
evening? 

"Besides,"  she  declared,  "I've  had  enough  for  to-day.  I  shall 
not  receive  any  one.  Go  and  say  that  you  no  longer  expect  me." 

"Madame  will  reflect  —  madame  will  receive  M.  Steiner," 
murmured  Zoe,  without  stirring,  looking  very  grave  and  annoyed 
to  find  her  mistress  on  the  point  of  behaving  very  foolishly.  Then 
she  spoke  of  the  Wallachian,  who  must  be  beginning  to  find  time 
hang  very  heavily  on  his  hands  all  alone  in  the  bedroom.  But 
Nana  got  into  a  rage  and  became  more  obstinate.  No,  she  would 
see  no  one!  Why  was  she  ever  bothered  with  a  fellow  who  would 
stick  to  her  to  that  extent? 

"Kick  'em  all  out!  I'm  going  to  have  a  game  at  bezique  with 
Madame  Maioir.  I  like  that  much  better." 

The  ringing  of  the  bell  interrupted  her.  This  was  too  much! 
How  many  more  of  them  would  come  to  bother  her?  She  forbade 
Zoe  to  open  the  door.  The  latter,  without  listening  to  what  she 
said,  left  the  kitchen.  When  she  returned,  she  stated  in  a  per- 
emptory tone  of  voice,  as  she  handed  two  cards  to  her  mistress: 
"I  told  the  gentlemen  that  madame  would  see  them.  They  are 
in  the  drawing-room." 

Nana  jumped  up  from  her  seat  in  a  regular  fury,  but  the  names 
of  the  Marquis  de  Chouard  and  Count  Muffat  de  Beuville,  on 

C433 


NANA 

the  cards,  calmed  her.  She  remained  an  instant  wrapped  in 
thought. 

"Who  are  they?"  she  asked  at  length.    "Do  you  know  them?" 

"I  know  the  old  one,"  replied  Zoe,  discreetly;  and  as  her  mis- 
tress continued  to  question  her  with  her  eyes,  ishe  quietly  added, 
"  I  have  seen  him  at  a  certain  place." 

This  statement  seemed  to  determine  the  young  woman.  She 
reluctantly  left  the  kitchen,  that  warm  refuge  where  one  could 
gossip  and  take  one's  ease,  with  the  smell  of  the  coffee  warming  on 
the  embers  of  the  charcoal.  She  left  behind  her  Madame  Maloir, 
who  was  now  cutting  the  cards  and  telling  her  own  fortune.  She 
had  continued  to  keep  her  bonnet  on,  only,  to  be  more  at  her 
ease,  she  had  untied  the  strings  and  thrown  the  ends  back  over 
her  shoulders.  In  the  dressing-room,  where  Zoe  rapidly  helped 
her  to  change  her  things,  Nana  avenged  herself  for  the  worries 
she  had  to  put  up  with  by  uttering  in  a  low  voice  the  most  abomi- 
nable oaths  against  men  in  general.  These  foul  expressions  grieved 
the  maid,  for  she  saw  with  regret  that  her  mistress  was  a  long 
time  in  getting  free  of  the  evil  effects  of  her  early  surroundings. 
She  even  ventured  to  beg  of  her  to  be  calm. 

"Oh,  pooh!"  replied  Nana,  coarsely;  "they  are  a  set  of  pigs, 
and  they  like  it." 

Nevertheless,  she  put  on  what  she  styled  her  princess  look, 
and  was  moving  towards  the  drawing-room,  when  Zoe  stopped 
her,  and,  of  her  own  accord,  hastened  to  usher  into  the  dressing- 
room  the  Marquis  de  Chouard  and  Count  Muffat.  It  would  be 
much  better  that  way. 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  the  young  woman  with  studied  politeness, 
"  I  regret  that  you  have  had  to  wait." 

The  two  men  bowed  and  sat  down.  An  embroidered  blind 
subdued  the  light  admitted  into  the  ropm,  which  was  the  most 
elegantly  furnished  one  of  the  set:  it  was  hung  with  light  drapery, 
and  contained  a  handsome  marble  dressing-table,  a  large  cheval- 
glass,  with  an  inlaid  frame,  a  reclining-chair,  and  several  easy- 
chairs  covered  in  blue  satin.  On  the  dressing-table  were  placed 
the  bouquets  of  roses,  lilac  and  hyacinths,  quite  a  pyramid  of 
flowers,  emitting  a  strong  and  penetrating  perfume;  whilst  in 
the  moist  atmosphere,  with  the  insipid  smell  rising  from  the  dirty 
water,  an  odour  more  pronounced  could  now  and  again  be  dis- 
cerned, emanating  from  a  few  sprigs  of  dry  patchouli  broken  up 


NANA 

into  small  pieces  at  the  bottom  of  a  cup.  And  cuddling  herself 
up,  drawing  round  her  the  unfastened  dressing-gown  she  had 
slipped  on,  Nana  appeared  as  though  she  had  been  surprised  at 
her  toilet,  her  skin  scarcely  dried,  looking  smiling  though  startled 
in  the  midst  of  her  laces. 

"Madame,"  gravely  said  Count  Muff  at,  "excuse  our  taking  you 
thus  by  storm.  We  have  called  respecting  a  collection.  This 
gentleman  and  myself  are  members  of  the  poor  relief  committee 
for  this  district." 

The  Marquis  de  Chouard  gallantly  hastened  to  add,  "When 
we  heard  that  a  great  actress  lived  in  this  house,  we  at  once 
determined  to  call  and  personally  plead  the  cause  of  our  poor. 
Talent  is  ever  allied  to  a  generous  heart." 

Nana  made  a  great  show  of  modesty.  She  acknowledged  their 
remarks  by  slightly  nodding  her  head,  reflecting  furiously,  how- 
ever, all  the  time.  It  must  have  been  the  old  one  who  had  brought 
the  other;  his  eyes  looked  so  wicked.  Yet,  the  other  one  too  was 
to  be  mistrusted,  his  temples  seemed  curiously  swollen;  he  might 
have  managed  to  come  alone.  No  doubt,  they  had  heard  about 
her  from  the  concierge,  and  each  had  called  on  his  own 
account. 

"Certainly,  gentlemen,  you  were  quite  right  to  come,"  said  she, 
most  pleasantly.  But  the  sound  of  the  bell  made  her  start.  What! 
another  visitor,  and  that  Zoe  who  would  persist  in  letting  them 
in!  "I  am  only  too  happy  to  be  able  to  give,"  she  continued.  In 
reality,  she  felt  extremely  flattered. 

"Ah!  madame,"  resumed  the  marquis,  "if  you  but  knew  the 
extent  of  the  misery!  Our  district  contains  more  than  three 
thousand  poor,  and  yet  it  is  one  of  the  richest.  You  can  have  no 
idea  of  the  amount  of  distress  prevailing  —  children  without  food, 
women  lying  ill,  deprived  of  all  necessities,  dying  of  cold." 

"Poor  people!"  cried  Nana  deeply  affected. 

Her  pity  was  so  great  that  tears  filled  her  beautiful  eyes.  In 
an  impulsive  moment  she  leant  forward,  forgetting  any  longer  to 
study  her  movements,  and  her  open  dressing-gown  displayed  all 
her  neck,  whilst  her  bended  knees  indicated,  beneath  the  flimsy 
material,  the  roundness  of  her  form.  A  slight  tinge  of  colour 
illumined  the  ghastly  pallor  of  the  marquis's  cheeks,  and  Count 
Muff  at,  who  was  on  the  point  of  speaking,  lowered  his  eyes.  It 
was  decidedly  too  warm  in  that  small  room,  it  was  heavy  and 

C453 


NANA 

close  like  a  hot-house.  The  roses  were  drooping,  and  the  smell 
of  the  patchouli  in  the  cup  was  intoxicating. 

"One  would  like  to  be  very  rich  on  such  occasions,"  added 
Nana.  "  However  one  does  what  one  can.  Believe  me,  gentlemen, 
had  I  only  known  — " 

She  was  on  the  point  of  saying  something  foolish  under  the  in- 
fluence of  her  emotion;  but  she  recovered  herself,  and  left  the 
phrase  unfinished.  For  a  moment  she  remained  perplexed,  not 
recollecting  where  she  had  put  the  fifty  francs  when  she  took  her 
dress  off;  but  at  length  she  recollected,  they  must  be  on  a  corner 
of  her  dressing-table  under  a  pomatum-pot  turned  upside  down. 
As  she  rose  from  her  seat  the  bell  sounded  again,  violently  this 
time.  Good!  another  one!  Would  it  never  cease?  The  count 
and  the  marquis  had  also  risen,  and  the  ears  of  the  latter 
seemed  to  turn  in  the  direction  of  the  door;  no  doubt  he 
knew  what  the  frequent  rings  at  the  bell  meant.  Muffat  glanced 
at  him;  then  each  looked  on  the  ground;  no  doubt  they  were  in 
each  other's  way.  But  they  soon  regained  their  composure,  the 
one  looking  proud  and  strong,  his  head  well  covered  with  his  dark 
brown  hair,  the  other  straightening  his  bony  shoulders,  over  which 
fell  his  meagre  crown  of  rare  white  hairs. 

"Really,  gentlemen,"  said  Nana,  laughing,  as  she  brought  the 
ten  big  silver  coins,  "  I'm  afraid  I  shall  burden  you.  Remember 
it  is  for  the  poor." 

And  an  adorable  little  dimple  appeared  in  her  chin.  She  had 
assumed  her  "hail  fellow  well  met"  air,  and  stood  in  an  easy 
posture,  holding  out  her  hand  full  of  silver  —  offering  it  to  the 
two  men,  as  though  saying,  "Come,  who'll  take?"  The  count 
was  the  more  active,  he  took  the  money;  but  one  coin  remained 
in  the  young  woman's  hand,  and,  to  remove  it,  his  fingers  were 
obliged  to  come  in  contact  with  her  skin  —  a  skin  so  warm  and 
soft  that  touching  it  sent  a  thrill  through  his  frame.  Nana, 
greatly  amused,  continued  laughing. 

"There,  gentlemen,"  she  resumed.  "Next  time  I  hope  to  give 
more." 

Having  no  pretext  for  remaining  longer,  they  bowed  and  moved 
towards  the  door.  But,  as  they  were  about  to  leave  the  room, 
the  bell  sounded  again.  The  marquis  could  not  repress  a  faint 
smile,  whilst  a  shadow  passed  over  the  count's  grave  face.  Nana 
detained  them  a  few  seconds,  to  allow  Zoe  time  to  find  some  out-of- 

C463 


NANA 

the-way  corner  for  the  new  comer.  She  did  not  like  people  to 
meet  one  another  when  calling  on  her.  This  time,  the  place  must 
be  quite  full.  She  was  agreeably  surprised,  however,  to  find  the 
drawing-room  empty.  Had  Zoe,  then,  put  them  into  the  cup- 
boards?" 

"Good-day,  gentlemen,"  she  said,  as  she  stood  in  the  open 
doorway. 

She  enveloped  them  in  her  smile  and  her  clear  glance.  Count 
Muffat  bowed  low,  disconcerted  in  spite  of  his  great  experience 
of  the  world,  longing  for  a  breath  of  fresh  air,  dizzy  from  his  con- 
tact with  that  room,  and  carrying  away  with  him  an  odour  of 
woman  and  flowers  which  nearly  stifled  him.  And,  behind  him, 
the  Marquis  de  Chouard,  certain  of  not  being  observed,  dared  to 
wink  at  Nana,  his  face,  for  the  moment,  all  distorted,  and  his 
tongue  between  his  lips.  When  the  young  woman  re-entered  the 
dressing-room,  where  Zoe  awaited  her  with  some  letters  and  visit- 
ing-cards, she  laughed  louder  than  ever,  and  exclaimed: 

"Well,  there  go  a  couple  of  sharks!  They  wheedled  my  fifty 
francs  out  of  me!" 

But  she  was  not  annoyed;  it  amused  her  to  think  that  men 
should  ask  her  for  money.  All  the  same,  they  were  a  couple  of 
pigs;  she  hadn't  a  sou  left.  The  sight  of  the  cards  and  the  letters 
brought  back  her  bad  temper.  The  letters  might  be  tolerated; 
they  came  from  gentlemen  who,  after  applauding  her  at  the  theatre, 
now  hastened  to  make  their  declarations.  As  for  the  visitors,  they 
might  go  to  the  devil!  Zoe  had  put  some  everywhere;  and  she 
remarked  that  the  suite  of  rooms  was  very  convenient,  for  each 
one  opened  on  to  the  passage.  It  was  not  the  same  at  Madame 
Blanche's,  where  you  always  had  to  pass  through  the  drawing- 
room;  and  Madame  Blanche  had  had  a  great  deal  of  unpleasant- 
ness on  that  account. 

"You  must  send  them  all  to  the  right  about,"  resumed  Nana, 
following  her  original  idea.  "Begin  with  the  blackamoor." 

"I  sent  him  off  a  long  time  ago,  madame,"  said  Zoe  with  a 
smile.  "  He  merely  wished  to  tell  madame  that  he  couldn't  come 
to-night." 

What  great  joy!    Nana  clapped  her  hands.    He  wasn't  coming 

—  what  luck!    Then  she  would  be  free!     She  sighed  with  relief, 

as  though  she  had  been  pardoned  when  about  to  endure  the  most 

abominable  of  punishments.    Her  first  thought  was  for  Daguenet 

C473 


NANA 

—  that  poor  duck  whom  she  had  just  put  off  till  the  Thursday! 
Quick,  Madame  Maloir  must  write  another  letter!  But  Zoe  said 
that,  as  usual,  Madame  Maloir  had  gone  off  without  letting  any 
one  know.  Then  Nana,  after  speaking  of  sending  some  one,  began 
to  hesitate.  She  was  very  tired.  A  whole  night  for  sleep  —  it 
would  be  so  nice !  The  idea  of  such  a  treat  at  length  proved  irresis- 
tible. She  might,  just  for  once,  stand  herself  that. 

"  I  shall  go  to  bed  at  once  on  returning  from  the  theatre,"  she 
murmured,  in  a  greedy  sort  of  way,  "and  you  must  let  me  sleep 
till  twelve  o'clock."  Then,  raising  her  voice,  she  added,  "Now, 
then,  look  alive!  shove  'em  all  on  to  the  staircase!" 

Zoe  didn't  stir.  She  would  never  permit  herself  openly  to  give 
advice  to  madame,  only  she  arranged  matters  in  such  a  way  as 
to  enable  madame  to  profit  by  her  vast  experience,  when  she  saw 
that  madame  was  about  to  do  something  foolish. 

"M.  Steiner  also?"  she  briefly  asked. 

"Certainly,"  replied  Nana.    "He  before  the  others." 

The  maid  still  waited,  to  give  madame  time  to  reflect.  Wouldn't 
madame  be  proud  to  do  her  rival,  Rose  Mignon,  out  of  such  a 
rich  gentleman  —  one  so  well  known  in  all  the  theatres? 

"Look  sharp,  my  dear,"  resumed  Nana,  who  understood  per- 
fectly, "and  tell  him  that  he  plagues  me."  But  she  suddenly  altered 
her  mind.  On  the  morrow  she  might  want  him;  so,  winking  her 
eye,  she  laughingly  added,  "After  all,  if  I  want  to  hook  him,  the 
best  thing  is  chuck  him  out." 

Zoe  seemed  very  much  struck  with  the  remark.  She  gazed  on 
her  mistress  with  a  look  of  admiration,  then  went  and  sent  Steiner 
about  his  business  without  hesitation.  Nana  waited  a  few  minutes 
to  give  her  time  to  sweep  the  place,  as  she  termed  it.  One  had 
never  before  heard  of  such  an  assault!  She  looked  into  the  draw- 
ing-room; it  was  empty  —  the  dining-room  also;  but  as  she  con- 
tinued her  inspection,  quite  reassured,  and  certain  she  would  not 
come  across  any  one,  she  suddenly  found  herself  in  the  company 
of  a  very  little  fellow,  on  opening  the  door  of  a  spare  room.  He 
was  seated  on  the  top  of  a  trunk,  very  quiet  and  looking  very 
good,  with  an  enormous  bouquet  on  his  knees. 

"Oh,  heavens!"  she  exclaimed.     "There  is  still  one  in  here!" 

On  seeing  her  the  little  fellow  jumped  to  the  floor,  his  face  as 
red  as  a  poppy,  and  he  did  not  seem  to  know  what  to  do  with 
his  bouquet,  which  he  passed  from  one  hand  to  the  other,  almost 

C48D 


NANA 

strangled  by  emotion.  His  youth,  his  embarrassment,  the  comical 
figure  he  cut  with  his  flowers,  touched  Nana,  who  burst  out  laugh- 
ing. What!  children  as  well?  Now  men  came  to  her  when  they 
had  scarcely  left  off  their  swaddling  clothes.  She  became  quite 
easy,  familiar,  maternal,  even,  in  her  way;  and,  slapping  her 
thighs,  asked  him,  for  a  bit  of  fun, 

"Have  you  then  come  to  be  whipped,  baby?" 

"Yes,"  replied  the  youngster,  in  low  and  entreating  accents. 

This  reply  amused  her  all  the  more.  He  was  seventeen  years 
old,  his  name  was  George  Hugon.  He  was  at  the  Variety  Theatre 
on  the  previous  evening,  and  he  had  come  to  see  her. 

"Are  those  flowers  for  me?" 

"Yes." 

"Give  them  to  me,  then,  you  little  booby!" 

But,  as  she  took  the  bouquet,  he  seized  her  hands,  with  the 
gluttony  of  his  happy  age.  She  had  to  strike  him  to  make  him 
leave  go.  There  was  a  young  monkey  who  went  it  hot!  She 
quite  blushed  and  smiled  as  she  scolded  him.  Then  she  sent  him 
away,  giving  him  permission  to  come  again.  He  staggered;  he 
could  scarcely  find  the  door.  Nana  returned  to  her  dressing-room, 
where  Francis  appeared  almost  immediately  to  do  her  hair  for  the 
evening.  She  never  dressed  before  then.  Seated  before  the  look- 
ing-glass, lowering  her  head  beneath  the  skilful  fingers  of  the  hair- 
dresser, she  remained  silent  and  pensive,  when  Zoe  entered, 
saying, 

"Madame,  there  is  one  who  will  not  go  away." 

"Very  well,  then,  let  him  stop,"  she  calmly  replied. 

"Besides,  as  fast  as  some  go  others  come." 

"Never  mind,  tell  them  to  wait.  When  they  get  very  hungry 
they  will  go  off!" 

She  had  again  altered  her  mind.  It  now  delighted  her  to  keep 
the  men  waiting.  A  sudden  idea  perfected  her  amusement.  She 
escaped  from  Francis's  hands,  and  ran  and  bolted  the  door.  Now 
they  could  come  and  fill  the  other  rooms  as  much  as  they  liked, 
they  wouldn't  be  able  to  pierce  the  walls,  she  supposed !  Zoe 
could  go  in  and  out  by  the  little  door  that  led  into  the  kitchen. 
However,  the  electric  bell  kept  on  as  lively  as  ever.  Every  five 
minutes  the  sound  came  again,  sharp  and  clear,  with  the  regularity 
of  a  well-oiled  machine;  and  Nana  counted  the  tinklings  by  way 
of  distraction.  But  a  sudden  recollection  burst  upon  her. 

C49] 


NANA 

"And  my  burnt  almonds,  what  about  them?"  she  cried. 

Francis  also  was  forgetting  the  burnt  almonds.  He  withdrew 
a  packet  from  the  pocket  of  his  frockcoat,  with  the  discreet  man- 
ner of  a  man  of  the  world  offering  a  present  to  a  lady  friend.  How- 
ever, each  time  his  account  was  settled  he  did  not  forget  to  in- 
clude the  burnt  almonds  in  the  bill.  Nana  put  the  bag  between 
her  knees  and  commenced  to  munch,  moving  her  head  now  and 
again,  according  to  the  gentle  pushes  of  the  hair-dresser. 

"The  deuce!"  she  murmured,  after  a  short  silence,  "there's  a 
regular  band  of  them."  Three  times  successively  had  the  bell 
sounded.  It  scarcely  ceased  ringing.  Some  of  the  rings  were  very 
modest  ones,  they  seemed  to  falter  with  the  nervousness  of  a 
first  avowal;  others  were  very  bold,  vibrating  beneath  the  touch 
of  some  rough  hand;  whilst  others,  still,  were  very  hurried,  and 
passed  away  in  a  moment.  They  produced  an  incessant  peal, 
as  Zoe  said,  sufficient  to  disturb  the  whole  neighbourhood,  all 
this  crowd  of  men  pushing  in  turn  the  ivory  knob  of  the  electric 
bell.  It  was  too  bad  of  that  joker  Bordenave.  He  had  really 
given  the  address  to  too  many  persons  —  nearly  all  the  previous 
night's  audience  seemed  to  be  calling. 

"By  the  way,  Francis,"  said  Nana,  "have  you  five  louis?" 

He  took  a  step  backwards,  scrutinized  the  head-dress,  then 
quietly  replied,  "Five  louis?  well,  that  depends." 

"Oh!  you  know,"  she  returned,  "if  you  want  securities — " 

And,  without  finishing  the  sentence,  she  nodded  in  the  direction 
of  the  adjoining  rooms.  Francis  lent  the  five  louis.  Zoe,  in  her 
moments  of  respite,  came  and  prepared  everything  for  her  mis- 
tress's toilet.  Soon  she  had  to  come  and  dress  her,  whilst  the  hair- 
dresser waited,  wishing  to  give  a  few  finishing  touches  to  his  work. 
But  the  sound  of  the  bell  constantly  called  away  the  maid,  who 
left  her  mistress  with  her  stays  half  unlaced,  or  with  only  one 
stocking  on.  She  got  quite  bewildered  in  spite  of  her  experience. 
After  having  put  men  everywhere,  even  in  the  smallest  corners, 
she  was  at  length  obliged  to  put  three  or  four  together,  a  pro- 
ceeding which  was  altogether  against  her  principles.  Well,  so 
much  the  worse  if  they  ate  each  other,  it  would  give  more  room! 
And  Nana,  safely  bolted  in,  laughed  at  them,  saying  that  she  could 
hear  them  puffing  and  blowing.  They  must  have  a  very  queer 
look,  all  with  their  tongues  hanging  out,  like  a  lot  of  puppies 
sitting  on  their  haunches  in  a  ring.  It  was  the  success  of  the 

C503 


NANA 

previous  evening  continuing;  this  pack  of  men  had  followed  on 
her  trail. 

.:  "I  hope  they  won't  break  anything,"  she  murmured.  She  was 
commencing  to  get  uneasy,  under  the  influence  of  the  hot  breaths 
which  percolated  through  the  cracks.  But  Zoe  ushered  in  Labor- 
dette,  and  the  young  woman  uttered  a  cry  of  relief.  He  had  called 
to  tell  her  of  an  account  he  had  settled  for  her  at  the  office  of  the 
justice  of  the  peace.  She  didn't  listen  to  him,  but  kept  repeating, 
"  I  shall  take  you  with  me.  We  will  dine  together.  Then  you  shall 
see  me  to  the  Variety  Theatre.  I  don't  go  on  till  half-past  nine." 

That  dear  Labordette,  he  had  just  dropped  in  at  the  right  time. 
He  never  asked  for  anything!  He  was  merely  the  ladies'  friend, 
and  interested  himself  in  their  little  affairs.  For  instance,  on 
coming  in,  he  had  sent  all  the  creditors  to  the  right  about.  Those 
worthy  people,  however,  had  not  wished  to  be  paid;  on  the  con- 
trary, if  they  persisted  in  waiting,  it  was  merely  to  compliment 
madame,  and  personally  to  offer  her  their  services  after  her  great 
success. 

"  Let's  be  off,"  said  Nana,  who  was  now  dressed. 

Just  then  Zoe  hastened  into  the  room  crying,  "  I  cannot  answer 
the  bell  again,  madame.  There's  a  regular  crowd  coming  up  the 
stairs." 

A  crowd  on  the  stairs!  Even  Francis  laughed,  in  spite  of  the 
coolness  he  affected,  as  he  gathered  up  his  combs.  Nana,  seizing 
hold  of  Labordette's  arm,  dragged  him  into  the  kitchen;  and,  free 
at  length  of  the  men,  she  hurried  away  thoroughly  happy,  knowing 
that  she  could  be  alone  with  him,  no  matter  where,  without  any 
fear  of  his  making  a  fool  of  himself. 

"You  must  bring  me  home  again,"  she  said,  as  they  went  down 
the  back  stairs.  "Then  I  shall  be  safe.  Only  fancy,  I  intend  to 
sleep  a  whole  night  —  a  whole  night  all  to  myself!  Just  a  whim  of 
mine,  old  fellow!" 


C5I3 


CHAPTER  III 

COUNTESS  SABINE,  as  Madame  MufFat  de  Beuville  was 
called  to  distinguish  her  from  the  count's  mother  who  had 
died  the  year  before,  received  every  Tuesday,  at  her  house 
in  the  Rue  de  Miromesnil  at  the  corner  of  the  Rue  de  Penthievre. 
It  was  a  large  square  building,  and  had  been  occupied  by  the 
Muffat  family  for  more  than  a  hundred  years  past.  The  frontage, 
overlooking  the  street,  was  high  and  dark,  and  as  quiet  and  melan- 
choly-looking as  a  convent,  with  immense  shutters  which  were 
nearly  always  closed;  at  the  rear,  in  a  little  damp  garden,  some 
trees  had  grown  up  in  their  search  for  sunshine,  so  tall  and 
lank  that  their  branches  could  be  seen  overtopping  the  roof. 
On  this  particular  Tuesday  evening,  towards  ten  o'clock,  there 
were  scarcely  a  dozen  persons  assembled  in  the  drawing-room. 
When  she  was  only  expecting  intimate  friends  the  countess  never 
threw  open  either  the  parlour  or  dining-room.  One  was  more  com- 
fortable and  could  gather  round  the  fire  and  chat.  The  drawing- 
room,  moreover,  was  very  large  and  very  high;  four  windows 
looked  on  to  the  garden,  the  dampness  of  which  could  be  more 
especially  felt  on  this  showery  April  evening,  in  spite  of  the  sub- 
stantial logs  burning  in  the  fireplace.  The  sun  never  shone  there. 
In  the  day-time  a  greenish  light  only  very  imperfectly  illuminated 
the  apartment;  but  at  night-time,  when  the  lamps  and  the  chan- 
delier were  lit,  it  merely  looked  solemn,  with  the  massive  mahogany 
furniture  in  the  style  of  the  First  Empire,  and  the  hangings  and 
chair-coverings  in  yellow  velvet  ornamented  with  satin-like  designs. 
On  entering  the  room  one  found  oneself  in  an  atmosphere  of  cold 
dignity,  of  ancient  customs  and  of  a  past  age,  exhaling  an  odour 
of  godliness.  However,  on  the  side  of  the  fireplace,  facing  the  arm- 
chair in  which  the  count's  mother  died  —  a  square  chair  with  stiff 
straight  woodwork  and  hard  cushions  —  the  Countess  Sabine  was 
reclining  in  a  low  easy-chair,  covered  with  crimson  silk,  the  padding 
of  which  had  the  softness  of  eider-down.  It  was  the  only  modern 
article  of  furniture  in  the  room,  the  gratification  of  a  fancy  which 
seemed  like  a  blasphemy  amidst  the  surrounding  austerity. 


NANA 

"So,"  the  young  woman  was  saying,  "we  are  to  have  the  Shah 
of  Persia." 

They  were  talking  of  the  great  personages  who  were  coming  to 
Paris  on  account  of  the  Exhibition.  Several  ladies  were  seated 
in  a  semicircle  round  the  fire.  Madame  Du  Joncquoy,  whose 
brother,  a  diplomatist,  had  fulfilled  a  mission  in  the  East,  was 
giving  some  details  respecting  the  Court  of  that  potentate. 

"Are  you  unwell,  my  dear?"  asked  Madame  Chantereau,  the 
wife  of  an  iron-founder,  seeing  the  countess  shudder  slightly  and 
turn  pale. 

"Oh,  no,  not  at  all,"  replied  the  latter,  with  a  smile.  "I  felt 
rather  cold.  This  room  takes  such  a  long  time  to  get  warm!"  and 
she  looked  along  the  walls,  and  up  to  the  ceiling.  Her  daughter, 
Estelle,  a  young  girl  of  sixteen,  skinny  and  insignificant-looking, 
got  up  from  the  stool  on  which  she  was  sitting,  and  came  and 
silently  replaced  on  the  top  of  the  fire  one  of  the  logs  which  had 
rolled  off.  Madame  de  Chezelles,  one  of  Sabine's  convent  friends, 
but  five  years  younger  than  she,  exclaimed: 

"Well!  I  should  like  to  have  a  drawing-room  like  yours!  You, 
at  least,  are  able  to  receive.  In  modern  houses  the  rooms  are  no 
bigger  than  boxes.  If  I  was  in  your  place  — " 

She  spoke  thoughtlessly,  with  animated  gestures,  explaining  that 
she  would  change  the  hangings,  the  seats,  everything;  then  she 
would  give  balls  to  which  all  Paris  would  long  to  be  invited.  Be- 
hind her,  her  husband,  a  judge,  listened  with  a  grave  face.  It 
was  said  that  she  deceived  him,  and  openly,  too;  but  every  one 
forgave  her,  and  received  her  all  the  same,  because,  so  the  report 
ran,  she  was  mad. 

"Oh,  Leonide!"  Countess  Sabine,  with  her  faint  smile,  contented 
herself  with  murmuring.  A  slight  shrug  of  the  shoulders  completed 
her  thought.  It  was  not  after  having  lived  in  it  seventeen  years 
that  she  would  think  of  altering  her  drawing-room.  Now,  it  would 
remain  the  same  as  her  mother-in-law  had  wished  it  should  be 
during  her  life-time.  Then,  resuming  the  conversation,  she  observed, 
"  I  have  been  told  that  we  shall  also  have  the  King  of  Prussia  and 
the  Emperor  of  Russia." 

"Yes,  it  is  announced  that  there  will  be  great  festivities,"  said 
Madame  Du  Joncquoy. 

The  banker  Steiner,  recently  introduced  into  the  house  by 
Leonide  de  Chezelles,  who  knew  every  one,  was  conversing  seated 


NANA 

on  a  sofa  between  two  windows.  He  was  questioning  a  deputy, 
from  whom  he  was  cunningly  trying  to  extract  some  news  relative 
to  a  stock  exchange  affair  of  which  he  had  an  inkling;  whilst 
Count  Muffat,  standing  in  front  of  them,  was  listening  in  silence, 
looking  blacker  than  ever.  Four  or  five  young  men  formed 
another  group  near  the  door,  surrounding  Count  Xavier  de 
Vandeuvres,  who,  in  a  hushed  voice,  was  relating  to  them  some 
adventure,  rather  improper,  no  doubt,  for  they  were  all  making 
great  efforts  to  smother  their  laughter.  All  alone,  in  the  middle 
of  the  room,  a  stout  man,  the  head  of  a  department  at  the  Ministry 
of  the  Interior,  was  ponderously  seated  in  an  arm-chair,  asleep 
with  his  eyes  open.  But  one  of  the  young  men  having  seemed  to 
throw  doubt  on  Vandeuvres's  story,  the  latter  raised  his  voice, 
and  exclaimed: 

"You  are  too  sceptical,  Foucarmont;  you  will  spoil  all  your 
pleasures." 

And  with  a  laugh  he  moved  towards  the  ladies.  The  last  of  a 
great  race,  effeminate  and  intelligent,  he  was  then  devouring  a 
fortune  with  the  rage  of  an  appetite  that  nothing  could  appease. 
His  racing-stable,  one  of  the  most  celebrated  of  Paris,  cost  him 
an  enormous  sum;  his  losings  at  the  Imperial  Club  amounted 
each  month  to  a  most  unpleasant  number  of  louis;  his  mistresses 
every  year,  good  or  bad,  relieved  him  of  a  farm  and  several  acres 
of  meadow  or  forest  land,  making  quite  a  hole  in  his  vast  estates 
in  Picardy. 

"You  do  well  to  call  others  sceptical,  you  who  believe  in  noth- 
ing," said  Leonide,  making  room  for  him  beside  her.  "It  is  you 
who  spoil  your  pleasures." 

"Exactly,"  he  replied.  "I  want  others  to  profit  by  my  ex- 
perience." 

But  he  was  made  to  stop.  He  was  scandalizing  M.  Venot. 
Then,  some  of  the  ladies  moving,  disclosed  to  view,  on  a  sort  of 
sofa-chair,  a  little  man  of  sixty,  with  bad  teeth  and  a  cunning 
smile.  He  was  installed  there  just  as  though  he  were  at  home, 
listening  to  every  one  and  never  uttering  a  word.  With  a  gesture 
he  notified  that  he  was  not  scandalized.  Vandeuvres  assumed  his 
most  dignified  look,  and  gravely  added,  "M.  Venot  knows  very- 
well  that  I  believe  that  which  I  ought  to  believe." 

It  was  an  act  of  religious  faith.  Leonide  herself  appeared 
satisfied.  The  young  men  at  the  end  of  the  room  no  longer 


NANA 

laughed.  It  was  a  strait-laced  place,  and  they  did  not  amuse 
themselves  much  there.  A  coldness  had  passed  over  all.  In  the 
midst  of  the  silence  arose  the  sound  of  Steiner's  snuffling  voice, 
the  deputy's  discretion  having  ended  by  putting  the  banker  in 
a  rage.  For  a  few  minutes  Countess  Sabine  looked  into  the  fire, 
then  she  renewed  the  conversation. 

"  I  saw  the  King  of  Prussia  last  year,  at  Baden.  He  is  still  full 
of  vigour  for  his  years." 

"Count  Bismarck  will  accompany  him,"  said  Madame  Du 
Joncquoy.  "Do  you  know  the  count?  I  lunched  with  him  at 
my  brother's,  oh!  a  long  time  ago,  when  he  was  representing 
Prussia  at  Paris.  I  cannot  understand  such  a  man  achieving 
the  great  success  he  has." 

"Why?"  asked  Madame  Chantereau. 

"Well!  I  scarcely  know  how  to  tell  you.  He  does  not  please  me. 
He  has  a  brutish  look,  and  is  ill-mannered.  Besides,  for  myself, 
I  think  him  stupid." 

Then  everyone  talked  about  Count  Bismarck.  The  opinions 
were  very  divided.  Vandeuvres  knew  him,  and  asserted  that  he 
was  a  hard  drinker  and  a  good  player.  But,  at  the  height  of  the 
discussion,  the  door  opened  and  Hector  de  la  Faloise  appeared. 
Fauchery,  who  accompanied  him,  approached  the  countess,  and 
bowing,  said,  "Madame  I  did  not  forget  your  gracious  invi- 
tation." 

She  greeted  him  with  a  smile  and  a  kind  word.  The  journalist, 
after  shaking  hands  with  the  count,  stood  for  a  moment  like  a 
fish  out  of  water,  in  the  midst  of  the  company  of  whom  he  only 
recognised  Steiner.  Vandeuvres,  having  turned  round,  came  and 
greeted  him;  and,  happy  at  the  meeting,  and  seized  with  a  desire 
to  be  communicative,  Fauchery  at  once  drew  him  aside,  saying  in 
a  low  voice: 

"It's  for  to-morrow;  are  you  going?" 

"Of  course!" 

"At  midnight  at  her  place." 

"I  know,  I  know.    I'm  going  with  Blanche." 

He  wished  to  escape  to  rejoin  the  ladies  and  give  another  argu- 
ment in  Count  Bismarck's  favour.  But  Fauchery  detained 
him. 

"You  will  never  guess  what  invitation  she  has  asked  me  to 
deliver." 


NANA 

And  he  slightly  nodded  his  head  in  the  direction  of  Count 
Muffat,  who  at  that  moment  was  discussing  the  budget  with  the 
deputy  and  Steiner. 

"It  can't  be!"  said  Vandeuvres,  amazed,  but  at  the  same  time 
highly  amused. 

"On  my  honour!  I  had  to  swear  I  would  bring  him.  I  have 
called  partly  on  that  account." 

They  both  had  a  quiet  laugh,  and  then  Vandeuvres,  hastening 
to  rejoin  the  ladies,  exclaimed, 

"I  assure  you,  on  the  contrary,  that  Count  Bismarck  is  very 
witty.  For  instance,  he  made  one  night,  in  my  hearing,  a  most 
delightful  pun  — " 

La  Faloise,  however,  having  overheard  the  few  rapid  words 
exchanged  in  a  low  voice  between  the  two  friends,  looked  at 
Fauchery,  hoping  for  an  explanation  which  came  not.  Whom  were 
they  talking  of?  What  was  going  to  take  place  the  next  day  at 
midnight?  He  stuck  to  his  cousin  wherever  he  went.  The  latter 
had  gone  and  sat  down.  Countess  Sabine  especially  interested 
him.  She  had  often  been  talked  about  in  his  presence.  He  knew 
that,  married  when  she  was  only  seventeen,  she  would  then  be 
thirty-four,  and  that  ever  since  her  marriage  she  had  led  a  sort 
of  cloistered  existence  between  her  husband  and  her  mother-in- 
law.  In  society,  some  said  she  was  as  cold  as  a  devotee,  but  others 
pitied  her  as  they  recalled  her  merry  laughter,  her  big,  sparkling 
eyes,  in  the  days  before  she  was  shut  up  in  that  old  house.  Fau- 
chery examined  her  and  hesitated.  One  of  his  friends,  a  captain 
who  had  been  recently  killed  in  Mexico,  had  imparted  to  him 
after  dinner,  on  the  eve  of  his  departure,  one  of  those  brutal 
secrets  which  the  most  discreet  men  let  out  at  certain  moments. 
But  Fauchery 's  recollection  of  the  matter  was  very  vague;  they 
had  both  dined  well  that  evening,  and  he  had  his  doubts  as  he 
watched  the  countess,  dressed  in  black,  with  her  quiet  smile,  in 
the  middle  of  that  old-fashioned  drawing-room.  A  lamp  placed 
behind  her  detached  her  sharp  profile,  that  of  a  plump  brunette, 
of  which  the  lips  alone,  slightly  thick,  had  a  sort  of  imperious 
sensuality. 

"What's  the  matter  with  them  and  their  Bismarck!"  murmured 
La  Faloise,  who  always  pretended  to  be  very  much  bored  when  in 
society.  "  It's  awfully  slow  here.  It  was  a  queer  idea  of  yours 
to  want  to  come!" 

C56H 


NANA 

All  at  once  Fauchery  questioned  him,  "  I  say,  the  countess,  has 
she  got  any  lover?" 

"Oh!  no,  my  dear  fellow;  oh!  no,"  he  stammered,  visibly  upset, 
and  quite  forgetting  his  off-hand  style.  "Wherever  do  you  think 
you  are?"  Then  he  became  aware  that  his  indignation  was  not 
quite  the  thing  for  a  man  of  the  world  like  himself,  so,  leaning 
back  on  the  sofa,  he  added,  "Well!  I  say  no;  but  really  I'm  not 
sure  of  anything.  There's  a  fellow  over  there,  that  Foucarmont, 
who's  always  to  be  found  about  the  place.  One  has  seen  stranger 
things  than  that,  that's  certain.  For  myself,  I  don't  car  a  hang. 
Anyhow,  if  the  countess  does  amuse  herself  in  that  way,  she  must 
be  very  cunning,  for  no  one  has  ever  found  it  out;  she  is  never 
talked  about." 

Then,  without  Fauchery  taking  the  trouble  to  question  him 
further,  he  related  all  he  knew  respecting  the  Muffats.  He  spoke 
in  a  very  low  voice  in  the  midst  of  the  tittle-tattle  of  the  ladies 
gathered  round  the  fire;  and  one  would  have  thought,  seeing  them 
in  their  white  ties  and  gloves,  that  they  were  discussing  some 
serious  matter  in  the  most  select  words.  Mamma  Muffat,  whom 
La  Faloise  had  known  intimately,  was  an  insupportable  old  woman, 
always  mixed  up  with  priests.  As  for  Muffat,  the  tardy  son  of  a 
general,  made  count  by  Napoleon  I.,  he  naturally  found  himself 
in  favour  after  December  2nd.  He  also  was  not  very  gay;  but 
he  was  considered  to  be  a  very  worthy  and  honest  man.  With 
that  he  possessed  opinions  belonging  to  another  world,  and  had 
such  a  high  idea  of  his  post  at  court,  of  his  dignities  and  of  his 
virtues,  that  he  carried  his  head  like  the  holy  sacrament.  It 
was  Mamma  Muffat  who  had  given  him  that  beautiful  education 
—  confession  every  day,  no  youth,  no  sprees  of  any  kind.  He 
was  most  religious;  he  had  frequent  fits  of  faith  of  great  violence, 
similar  to  attacks  of  brain  fever.  Then,  to  finish  his  portrait 
with  a  last  detail,  La  Faloise  whispered  a  word  in  his  cousin's  ear. 

"It's  not  possible!"  said  the  latter. 

"On  my  honour,  I  was  assured  of  it!  He  had  it  still  when  he 
married." 

Fauchery  laughed  as  he  glanced  at  the  count,  whose  face, 
surrounded  with  whiskers  and  without  moustache,  looked  squarer 
and  harder  than  ever  as  he  quoted  figures  and  totals  to  Steiner, 
who  disputed  them. 

"Well,  he  looks  like  one  of  that  sort,"  he  murmured.     "A 


NANA 

fine  present  he  made  to  his  wife!  Ah,  poor  little  thing!  how  he 
must  have  bored  her!  I  bet  she  doesn't  know  anything  at 
all!" 

Just  then  Countess  Sabine  spoke  to  him,  but  he  was  so  interested 
and  amused  with  what  he  had  been  told  about  the  count  that  he 
did  not  hear  her.  She  repeated  her  question. 

"M.  Fauchery,  have  you  not  written  an  article  on  Count 
Bismarck?  You  have  spoken  to  him,  have  you  not?" 

He  rose  from  his  seat  quickly,  and  joined  the  ladies,  trying  to 
compose  his  features,  at  the  same  time,  however,  finding  a  reply 
with  ease. 

"Really,  madame,  I  must  at  once  own  that  I  wrote  that  article 
by  the  aid  of  some  of  his  biographies  published  in  Germany.  I 
have  never  seen  Count  Bismarck." 

He  remained  next  to  the  countess,  and  whilst  talking  with  her 
he  continued  his  reflections.  She  did  not  look  her  age;  one  would 
have  thought  her  twenty-eight  years  old  at  most;  her  eyes,  which 
her  long  lashes  shaded  with  a  blue  shadow,  especially  retained  a 
sparkle  of  youth.  Brought  up  by  parents  living  apart,  spending 
one  month  with  the  Marquis  de  Chouard  and  the  next  with  the 
Marchioness,  she  married  when  very  young,  shortly  after  her 
mother's  death,  incited  thereto,  no  doubt,  by  her  father,  in  whose 
way  she  was.  He  was  a  terrible  man,  the  marquis,  and  strange 
stories  were  beginning  to  circulate  about  him,  in  spite  of  his  great 
show  of  piety!  Fauchery  asked  if  he  would  have  the  honour  of 
seeing  him.  Certainly,  her  father  would  come,  though  very  late; 
he  had  so  much  work  to  attend  to !  The  journalist,  who  thought  he 
knew  where  the  old  man  spent  his  evenings,  preserved  his  gravity; 
but  a  mark  he  noticed  on  the  countess's  left  cheek  near  her  mouth, 
surprised  him  greatly.  Nana  had  the  same  —  exactly.  It  was 
funny.  On  the  mark  were  some  little  curly  hairs,  only  the  hairs 
on  Nana  were  light,  whilst  those  on  the  other  were  as  black  as  jet. 
But,  no  matter,  this  woman  hadn't  a  lover. 

"I  always  had  a  wish  to  know  Queen  Augusta,"  said  she.  "I 
have  heard  that  she  is  so  good  and  so  pious.  Do  you  think  that 
she  will  accompany  the  king?" 

"It  is  said  that  she  will  not,  madame,"  he  replied. 

She  had  no  lover  —  that  was  evident  to  all.  It  was  sufficient 
to  see  her  there,  beside  her  daughter,  so  inert  and  so  unnatural 
on  her  stool.  The  sepulchral  drawing-room,  with  its  church-like 


NANA 

odour,  told  sufficiently  under  what  an  iron  hand,  in  what  a  rigid 
existence,  she  passed  her  life.  There  was  nothing  of  hers  in  that 
antiquated  abode,  blackened  with  damp.  It  was  Muffat  who 
domineered  and  who  governed,  with  his  bigoted  education,  his 
penances,  and  his  fasts.  But  the  sight  of  the  little  old  man  with 
bad  teeth  and  cunning  smile,  whom  Fauchery  noticed  just  then 
in  the  easy-chair  behind  the  ladies,  appeared  to  him  a  more  for- 
cible argument  still.  He  knew  the  fellow,  Theophile  Venot,  an 
ex-attorney  who  had  had  the  speciality  of  ecclesiastical  causes. 
Having  retired  with  a  very  handsome  fortune,  he  now  led  a  rather 
mysterious  existence,  was  received  everywhere,  treated  with  great 
respect,  and  even  slightly  feared,  as  though  he  represented  a 
great  power  —  an  occult  one  which,  so  to  say,  could  be  felt  about 
him.  Besides  that,  he  affected  great  humility;  he  was  a  church- 
warden at  the  Madeleine,  and  had  merely  taken  a  situation  as 
adjunct  to  the  mayor  of  the  ninth  arrondissement  to  occupy  his 
leisure,  so  he  said.  The  countess  was  well  protected,  and  no  mis- 
take! there  was  nothing  to  be  done  in  that  quarter. 

"You  are  right;  one  is  bored  to  death  here,"  said  Fauchery  to 
his  cousin,  when  he  had  succeeded  in  escaping  from  the  ladies. 
"We'll  be  off." 

But  Steiner,  whom  Count  Muffat  and  the  deputy  had  just  left, 
came  towards  him  looking  furious,  all  in  a  perspiration,  and 
grumbling  in  a  low  voice.  "Confound  them!  they  can  keep  their 
information  to  themselves  if  they  want  to.  I  shall  find  plenty 
of  others  who  will  speak."  Then,  pushing  the  journalist  into  a 
corner,  he  said  in  a  victorious  tone  of  voice,  "Well!  it's  for  to- 
morrow. I  shall  be  there,  my  buck!" 

"Ah!"  murmured  Fauchery,  surprised. 

"You  didn't  know?  Oh!  I  had  an  awful  job  to  find  her  at  home! 
Besides  that,  Mignon  stuck  to  me  wherever  I  went." 

"But  they  are  going,  the  Mignons." 

"Yes;  so  she  told  me.  Well,  she  at  length  received  me,  and 
invited  me.  At  midnight  precisely,  after  the  theatre."  The  banker 
looked  beaming  with  delight.  He  winked  his  eye,  and  added,  giv- 
ing to  each  word  a  peculiar  significance,  "And  you,  did  it  come 
off?" 

"What  do  you  mean?"  asked  Fauchery,  who  affected  not  to 
understand.  "She  wished  to  thank  me  for  my  article,  so  she 
came  to  call  on  me." 


NANA 

"Yes,  yes.  You  are  lucky,  you  fellows;  you  are  rewarded. 
By  the  way,  who  is  it  who  pays  to-morrow?" 

The  journalist  opened  his  arms,  as  though  to  declare  that  no 
one  had  been  able  to  find  out.  Here  Vandeuvres  called  to  Steiner, 
who  knew  Count  Bismarck.  Madame  Du  Joncquoy  was  almost 
convinced.  She  ended  by  saying: 

"He  made  a  bad  impression  on  my  mind;  I  think  he  looks 
wicked.  However,  I  am  willing  to  believe  he  has  plenty  of  wit. 
That  will  explain  his  great  successes." 

"No  doubt,"  said  the  banker  —  a  Frankfort  Jew,  with  a  ghastly 
smile. 

This  time,  however,  La  Faloise  plucked  up  courage  to  question 
his  cousin,  and  following  him  closely,  whispered  in  his  ear,  "So 
there's  to  be  a  supper  at  some  woman's  to-morrow  night?  At 
whose  place  is  it,  eh?  at  whose  place?" 

Fauchery  signalled  to  him  that  some  one  was  listening;  they 
must  observe  the  proprieties.  Again  the  door  had  opened,  and 
an  old  lady  entered,  followed  by  a  youth,  whom  the  journalist 
recognised  as  the  youngster  fresh  from  college,  who,  on  the  first 
night  of  the  "Blonde  Venus,"  had  uttered  the  famous  "Isn't  she 
stunning ! "  which  was  still  talked  about.  The  lady's  arrival  caused 
quite  a  commotion  in  the  drawing-room.  Countess  Sabine  hastily 
rose  from  her  chair  to  meet  her.  She  took  hold  of  her  hands,  and 
called  her  her  dear  Madame  Hugon.  Seeing  his  cousin  watch 
this  scene  rather  curiously,  La  Faloise,  with  the  view  of  impressing 
him,  explained  it  in  a  few  words.  Madame  Hugon  was  a  notary's 
widow,  and  had  retired  to  a  place  called  Les  Fondettes,  an  estate 
which  had  long  belonged  to  her  family,  and  which  was  situated 
near  Orleans.  She  had  kept  up  a  small  establishment  in  Paris, 
in  a  house  belonging  to  her  in  the  Rue  de  Richelieu,  and  was  now 
passing  a  few  weeks  there  for  the  purpose  of  arranging  everything 
for  her  younger  son,  who  was  studying  for  the  bar.  She  had  been 
the  Marchioness  de  Chouard's  great  friend,  and  had  been  present  at 
the  countess's  birth.  The  latter  had  often  spent  months  with  her, 
up  to  the  time  of  her  marriage  with  the  count,  and  they  were  still 
very  intimate  together. 

"  I  have  brought  George  to  see  you,"  Madame  Hugon  was  say- 
ing to  Sabine.  "I  fancy  you  will  find  him  grown!" 

The  youth,  with  his  bright  eyes  and  fair  curls,  looking  like  a  girl 
dressed  up  as  a  boy,  greeted  the  countess,  not  at  all  bashfully, 


NANA 

and  recalled  to  her  recollection  a  game  at  battledore  and  shuttle- 
cock that  they  had  played  together,  two  years  before,  at  Les 
Fondettes. 

"Is  Philip  not  in  Paris?"  asked  Count  Muffat. 

"Oh,  no!"  replied  the  old  lady.  "He  is  still  with  the  garrison 
at  Bourges." 

She  had  seated  herself,  and  talked  with  pride  of  her  elder  son, 
a  big  fellow,  who,  after  enlisting  in  a  hasty  moment,  had  rapidly 
attained  the  rank  of  lieutenant.  All  the  ladies  surrounded  her 
with  a  respectful  sympathy.  The  conversation  became  nicer  and 
more  agreeable;  and  Fauchery,  seeing  there  that  worthy  Madame 
Hugon,  with  her  white  hair,  and  her  maternal  face  lighted  up 
with  such  a  sweet  smile,  thought  himself  highly  ridiculous  for 
having  for  a  moment  suspected  Countess  Sabine.  However,  the 
big  crimson  silk  easy-chair,  in  which  the  countess  had  re-seated 
herself,  attracted  his  attention.  He  thought  it  looked  too  loud, 
and  altogether  out  of  place,  in  that  smoky  old  drawing-room.  For 
certain,  it  was  not  the  count  who  had  introduced  such  a  means  of 
gratifying  a  voluptuous  indolence.  One  might  have  thought  it 
a  sort  of  experiment,  the  commencement  of  a  desire  and  of  an 
enjoyment.  Then  his  thoughts  went  dreamily  back  to  the  past, 
returning,  in  spite  of  himself,  to  that  story  told  one  evening  in  a 
private  room  at  a  restaurant.  He  had  sought  to  become  acquainted 
with  the  Muffat  family,  prompted  by  a  sensual  curiosity;  for, 
since  his  friend  had  been  killed  in  Mexico,  who  knew  what  might 
happen?  it  was  for  him  to  see.  There  was  probably  nothing  in 
it  after  all.  The  thought  of  it,  however,  disturbed  and  attracted 
him,  and  all  the  vice  in  his  nature  was  awakened.  The  big  easy- 
chair  had  a  tumbled  look  and  a  curve  in  the  back  which  now  rather 
amused  him. 

"Well!  shall  we  go?"  asked  La  Faloise,  with  the  intention  of 
asking,  when  they  got  outside,  the  name  of  the  woman  who  was 
to  give  the  supper. 

"In  a  little  while,"  replied  Fauchery. 

And  he  no  longer  hurried  himself,  but  took  as  a  pretext  for  stay- 
ing the  invitation  with  which  he  had  been  charged,  and  which  it 
was  not  at  all  easy  to  deliver.  The  ladies  were  talking  of  a  young 
girl  who  had  recently  become  a  nun.  The  ceremony,  which  was  a 
very  touching  one,  had  affected  all  fashionable  Paris  for  three  days 
past.  She  was  the  eldest  daughter  of  the  Baroness  de  Fougeray, 


NANA 

and  had  joined  the  Carmelites,  having  an  irresistible  calling  to  do 
so.  Madame  Chantereau,  the  cousin  in  a  remote  degree  of  the 
Fougerays,  was  relating  that  the  baroness  had  been  obliged  to 
take  to  her  bed  on  the  following  day,  being  so  overcome  by  her 
emotion. 

"  I  had  a  capital  place,"  said  Leonide.  "  I  thought  it  all  very 
curious." 

Madame  Hugon,  however,  pitied  the  poor  mother.  What 
anguish  to  lose  her  daughter!  "I  have  been  accused  of  being  a 
devotee,"  said  she,  with  simple  frankness.  "That  does  not  prevent 
me  thinking  children  who  persist  in  such  a  suicide  very  cruel." 

"Yes,  it  is  a  terrible  thing,"  murmured  the  countess,  with  a 
slight  shiver,  as  she  cuddled  closer  into  her  chair  before  the  fire. 

Then  the  ladies  entered  into  a  long  discussion  on  the  subject. 
But  their  voices  were  subdued,  and  only  occasionally  did  a  faint 
laugh  interrupt  the  solemnity  of  the  conversation.  The  two  lamps 
on  the  mantlepiece,  covered  with  rose-coloured  shades,  shed  but  a 
feeble  light  over  them;  and  there  being  only  three  other  lamps, 
which  were  placed  at  a  distance  on  different  pieces  of  furniture, 
the  vast  room  was  in  a  pleasant  shadow.  Steiner  began  to  feel 
bored.  He  related  to  Fauchery  an  adventure  of  that  little  Madame 
de  Chezelles,  whom  he  familiarly  called  Leonide.  A  regular  hussy, 
said  he,  as  he  lowered  his  voice  behind  the  ladies'  chairs.  Fauchery 
watched  her  in  her  dress  of  pale  blue  satin,  as  she  sat  on  a  corner  of 
her  chair,  looking  as  slim  and  as  impudent  as  a  boy,  and  he  ended 
by  feeling  surprised  at  seeing  her  there.  They  knew  better  how 
to  behave  themselves  at  Caroline  Hequet's,  whose  establishment 
had  just  been  placed  on  a  substantial  footing  by  her  mother.  It 
was  quite  a  subject  for  an  article.  What  an  extraordinary  world 
was  the  Parisian  one!  The  strictest  drawing-rooms  were  becom- 
ing invaded.  That  silent  Theophile  Venot,  who  contented  him- 
self with  smiling  and  showing  his  bad  teeth,  was  evidently  a  be- 
quest of  the  defunct  countess,  just  the  same  as  the  elderly  ladies, 
Madame  Chantereau,  Madame  Du  Joncquoy,  and  four  or  five 
old  gentlemen  who  remained  immovable  in  their  corners.  Count 
Muffat  brought  some  government  officials,  who  affected  that  cor- 
rectness of  bearing  which  was  the  fashion  of  theTuileries.  Amongst 
others,  the  head  of  the  department  remained  seated  by  himself  in 
the  middle  of  the  room,  with  his  clean  shaven  face  and  dull- 
looking  eyes,  and  so  tightly  buttoned  up  in  his  coat  that  he  seemed 

C62] 


NANA 

as  though  he  dare  not  move.  Nearly  all  the  young  men,  and  some 
persons  of  lofty  style,  had  been  introduced  by  the  Marquis  de 
Chouard,  who  had  kept  up  his  connection  with  the  legitimists, 
after  having  joined  the  Empire  and  become  a  member  of  the 
Council  of  State.  There  remained  Leonide  de  Chezelles,  Steiner, 
a  most  ambiguous  lot,  which  was  relieved  by  Madame  Hugon  with 
the  serenity  of  an  amiable  old  woman;  and  Fauchery,  who  still 
had  his  article  in  his  mind,  called  them  Countess  Sabine's  set. 

"On  another  occasion,"  continued  Steiner,  speaking  very  low, 
"Leonide  made  her  tenor  come  to  Montauban.  She  was  living 
at  the  Chateau  de  Beaurecueil,  two  leagues  from  there,  and  every 
day  she  came  in  a  carriage  and  pair  to  see  him  at  the  Hotel  du 
Lion-d'Or,  where  he  was  staying.  The  carriage  waited  at  the  door, 
and  Leonide  remained  in  the  hotel  for  hours,  whilst  a  crowd 
assembled  and  admired  the  horses." 

The  conversation  ceased,  and  a  rather  solemn  interval  succeeded. 
Two  young  men  were  whispering,  but  they  soon  left  off,  and  noth- 
ing was  heard  but  Count  Muff  at 's  faint  footsteps  as  he  walked 
across  the  room.  The  lamps  seemed  to  be  burning  low,  the  fire 
was  going  out,  and  a  deep  shadow  almost  hid  from  sight  the  old 
friends  of  the  family,  as  they  sat  in  the  chairs  they  had  occupied 
there  for  forty  years  past.  It  was  as  though,  between  a  couple 
of  sentences,  the  guests  had  felt  the  count's  mother  return  with 
her  grand,  icy  cold  look.  Countess  Sabine,  however,  soon  resumed : 

"At  any  rate  there  was  a  report  to  that  effect.  The  young 
man,  it  seems,  died,  and  that  will  explain  why  the  poor  child 
took  the  veil.  It  is  said,  also,  that  M.  de  Fougeray  would  never 
have  given  his  consent  to  the  marriage." 

"There  are  a  great  many  other  things  said,  too,"  giddily  ex- 
claimed Leonide. 

She  laughed,  at  the  same  time  refusing  to  explain  herself. 
Sabine,  affected  by  this  gaiety,  carried  her  handkerchief  to  her 
mouth.  And  this  laughter,  in  the  solemnity  of  the  vast  apart- 
ment, had  a  ring  which  struck  Fauchery;  it  sounded  like  the 
breaking  of  glass.  Without  a  doubt  something  was  cracked  there. 
Then  the  ladies  all  started  off  talking  at  once.  Madame  du 
Joncquoy  protested;  Madame  Chantereau  knew  that  a  mar- 
riage had  been  contemplated,  but  that  nothing  further  had  taken 
place.  Even  the  gentlemen  ventured  to  give  their  views.  For 
some  minutes  there  was  quite  a  confusion  of  opinions,  in  which 


NANA 

the  different  elements  of  the  room  —  the  Bonapartists  and  the 
legitimists,  mixed  with  the  worldly  sceptics  —  elbowed  each  other, 
and  spoke  at  the  same  time.  Estelle  had  rung  for  more  wood 
for  the  fire,  and  the  footman  had  wound  up  the  lamps;  it  was 
quite  like  an  awaking.  Fauchery  was  smiling,  as  though  perfectly 
at  his  ease. 

"Why,  of  course!  they  espouse  God,  when  they  cannot  marry 
their  cousin,"  said  Vandeuvres  between  his  teeth,  thoroughly 
bored  with  the  subject,  as  he  went  and  joined  Fauchery.  "My 
boy,  have  you  ever  seen  a  woman  beloved  become  a  nun?"  He 
did  not  wait  for  a  reply,  he  had  had  enough  of  it;  and  in  a  low 
voice  he  added,  "  I  say,  how  many  shall  we  be  to-morrow?  There 
will  be  the  Mignons,  Steiner,  you,  Blanche,  and  myself.  Who  else?" 

"Caroline,  I  think,  Simone,  Gaga  for  certain.  One  never 
knows  exactly,  you  know.  On  such  occasions,  one  expects  about 
twenty  and  thirty  turn  up." 

Vandeuvres,  who  was  looking  at  the  ladies,  turned  to  another 
subject.  "She  must  have  been  very  good  looking,  Madame  Du 
Joncquoy,  fifteen  years  ago.  That  poor  Estelle  seems  to  have 
grown  longer  than  ever.  What  a  plank  she'll  be  to  put  in  a  bed!" 
But  he  interrupted  himself,  and  returned  to  the  question  of  the 
supper.  "The  nuisance  in  that  sort  of  things  is  that  one  always 
meets  the  same  women.  We  ought  to  have  some  new  ones.  Try 
and  discover  one.  Wait!  I  have  an  idea!  I'll  go  and  ask  that 
stout  man  to  bring  the  girl  he  was  lugging  about  at  the  Variety 
Theatre  the  other  evening." 

He  was  speaking  of  the  head  of  the  department,  who  was  doz- 
ing in  the  middle  of  the  room.  Fauchery  amused  himself  by 
watching  the  delicate  negotiation  from  a  distance.  Vandeuvres 
seated  himself  beside  the  stout  man,  who  continued  to  look  very 
dignified.  For  a  short  time  they  both  seemed  to  discuss,  with  all 
the  seriousness  it  merited,  the  weighty  question  of  the  moment, 
which  was  what  real  reason  a  young  girl  could  have  for  becoming 
a  nun.  Then  the  count  returned,  saying, 

"  It  isn't  possible.  He  swears  that  she  is  virtuous.  She  would 
be  sure  to  refuse.  Yet,  I  would  have  bet  that  I  had  seen  her 
at  Laure's." 

"What!  you  go  to  Laure's!"  murmured  Fauchery  with  a  laugh. 
"You  venture  to  risk  your  person  in  such  places!  I  thought  it 
was  only  we  poor  devils  who  did  that!" 


NANA 

"Oh!  dear  boy,  one  must  see  everything. "  Then  they  both 
chuckled,  and  their  eyes  sparkled  as  they  gave  each  other  different 
details  about  the  dining  place  in  the  Rue  des  Martyrs,  where  fat 
Laure  Piedefer,  for  three  francs  a  head,  provided  dinner  for 
ladies  who  were  down  in  their  luck.  It  was  a  dirty  hole!  All  the 
little  women  kissed  Laure  on  the  mouth.  Then,  as  the  countess 
looked  in  their  direction,  having  overheard  a  word  or  two,  they 
moved  away  together,  both  very  lively  and  highly  amused.  They 
had  not  noticed  George  Hugon  standing  near  them,  listening,  and 
blushing  so  hard  that  from  his  neck  to  his  ears  he  became  quite 
red.  The  baby  was  full  of  a  mixture  of  shame  and  rapture. 
Since  his  mother  had  left  him  alone  in  the  drawing-room,  he  had 
hovered  round  about  Madame  de  Chezelles,  the  only  woman  whom 
he  thought  at  all  up  to  anything,  and  yet  Nana  could  give  her  a 
lot! 

"Last  night,"  Madame  Hugon  was  saying,  "George  took  me  to 
the  theatre.  Yes,  to  the  Variety,  where  I  had  certainly  not  been 
for  ten  years  or  more.  The  child  adores  music.  As  for  myself, 
it  did  not  amuse  me  much,  but  he  seemed  so  happy!  They  bring 
out  most  peculiar  pieces  now-a-days.  I  must  admit,  however, 
that  I  have  no  great  taste  for  music." 

"What!  madame,  you  do  not  care  for  music!"  exclaimed 
Madame  Du  Joncquoy,  raising  her  eyes  to  heaven.  "Is  it  pos- 
sible that  everybody  does  not  like  music?" 

The  exclamation  was  general.  No  one  offered  a  remark  in 
reference  to  the  piece  produced  at  the  Variety  Theatre,  and  of 
which  the  worthy  Madame  Hugon  had  not  understood  anything; 
the  other  ladies  knew  about  it,  but  would  say  nothing.  They  at 
once  went  in  for  sentiment,  and  a  refined  and  ecstatic  admiration 
of  the  great  masters.  Madame  Du  Joncquoy  only  cared  for  Weber, 
Madame  Chantereau  preferred  the  Italians.  The  sound  of  the 
ladies'  voices  became  soft  and  languid;  one  might  have  thought 
the  group  gathered  round  the  fire  to  be  a  party  at  church,  dis- 
creetly and  faintly  intoning  a  canticle  in  some  little  chapel. 

"Let's  see,"  murmured  Vandeuvres,  leading  Fauchery  into  the 
middle  of  the  room,  "we  must,  somehow  or  other,  discover  a  new 
woman  for  to-morrow.  Suppose  we  ask  Steiner?" 

"Oh!  Steiner,"  said  the  journalist,  "never  gets  hold  of  a  woman 
until  all  Paris  has  had  enough  of  her." 

Vandeuvres,  however,  looked  about  him.    "Wait,"  he  resumed, 


NANA 

"I  met  Foucarmont  with  some  fair  charmer  the  other  day.  I 
will  go  and  ask  him  to  bring  her." 

And  he  beckoned  to  Foucarmont.  They  rapidly  exchanged  a 
few  words;  but  there  seemed  to  be  some  difficulty,  for  they  both 
cautiously  picked  their  way  over  the  ladies'  skirts  and  joined 
another  young  man,  with  whom  they  continued  their  conference 
in  the  recess  of  a  window.  Fauchery,  left  alone,  decided  to  join 
the  group  by  the  fire  just  as  Madame  Du  Joncquoy  was  stating 
that  she  could  never  hear  Weber's  music  without  at  once  seeming 
to  see  lakes,  forests,  and  the  sun  rising  over  landscapes  bathed 
in  dew;  but  a  hand  touched  his  shoulder,  whilst  a  voice  said  be- 
hind him, 

"It's  not  at  all  kind  of  you." 

"What  isn't?"  he  asked,  turning  round  and  recognising  La 
Faloise. 

"That  supper,  to-morrow  night  —  you  might  at  least  have  got 
me  invited." 

Fauchery  was  just  about  to  reply,  when  Vandeuvres  returned 
and  said  to  him,  "It  seems  the  girl  has  nothing  to  do  with  Foucar- 
mont, she  belongs  to  that  other  gentleman  over  there.  She  won't 
be  able  to  come.  What  a  bore!  But,  all  the  same,  I've  hooked 
Foucarmont.  He  will  try  and  bring  Louise  of  the  Palais-Royal 
Theatre." 

"M.  de  Vandeuvres,"  asked  Madame  Chantereau,  raising  her 
voice,  "is  it  not  true  that  Wagner's  music  was  hissed  on  Sunday?" 

"Oh!  atrociously,  madame,"  he  replied,  advancing  with  his 
exquisite  politeness.  Then,  as  the  ladies  did  not  detain  him,  he 
moved  away  and  continued  in  an  undertone  in  the  journalist's 
ear,  "I  shall  go  and  hook  some  more.  All  these  young  fellows 
must  know  some  little  women." 

Then  he  was  seen,  pleasantly  smiling  the  while,  to  go  up  to 
the  different  men  and  talk  with  them  in  all  parts  of  the  room. 
He  mingled  with  the  various  groups,  dropped  a  few  words  here 
and  there,  and  then  withdrew,  winking  his  eyes  and  making  other 
signs.  It  was  as  though  he  was,  in  his  easy  way,  giving  out  a 
watchword.  His  words  were  passed  from  one  to  another,  and 
appointments  were  made;  whilst  the  ladies'  sentimental  dis- 
sertations on  music  drowned  the  agitated  buzz  caused  by  all  these 
alluring  attempts. 

"No,  don't  mention  your  Germans,"  repeated  Madame  Chan- 

C66] 


NANA 

tereau.  "Song  is  gaiety,  is  light.  Have  you  heard  Patti  in  'II 
Barbiere?'  " 

"Delicious!"  murmured  Leonide,  who  could  only  strum  opera- 
boufFe  airs  on  her  piano. 

Countess  Sabine  now  rang  for  tea,  which  was  served  in  the 
drawing-room  when  the  visitors  on  a  Tuesday  were  not  numerous. 
Whilst  having  a  small  table  cleared  by  a  footman,  the  countess 
followed  Count  de  Vandeuvres  with  her  eyes.  She  preserved  that 
vague  smile  which  showed  a  little  the  whiteness  of  her  teeth; 
and,  as  the  count  passed  near  her,  she  questioned  him. 

"Whatever  are  you  plotting,  M.  de  Vandeuvres?" 

"I,  madame?"  he  calmly  replied,  " I  am  not  plotting  anything." 

"Ah!  You  seemed  to  be  so  very  busy.  See,  you  must  make 
yourself  useful." 

She  placed  an  album  in  his  hands  and  asked  him  to  put  it  on 
the  piano.  But  he  found  means  of  informing  Fauchery  on  the 
quiet  that  Tatan  Nene,  who  had  the  best  neck  and  shoulders  of 
the  season,  would  be  there,  and  also  Maria  Blond,  who  had  just 
made  her  first  appearance  at  the  Folies-Dramatiques  Theatre. 
La  Faloise,  however,  kept  stopping  him  at  almost  every  step, 
expecting  anjinvitation.  He  ended  by  offering  himself.  Vandeuvres 
engaged  him  at  once;  only,  he  made  him  promise  to  bring  Clarisse, 
and  as  La  Faloise  affected  to  be  scrupulous,  he  quieted  him  by 
saying,  "But  I  invite  you!  That  is  quite  sufficient." 

Nevertheless  La  Faloise  would  very  much  have  liked  to  have 
known  the  name  of  the  woman  at  whose  house  the  supper  was 
to  take  place,  but  the  countess  had  recalled  Vandeuvres,  and  was 
questioning  him  as  to  the  way  tea  was  made  in  England.  He 
was  often  there,  attending  the  races  in  which  his  horses  ran. 
According  to  him,  only  the  Russians  knew  how  to  make  tea;  and 
he  mentioned  their  recipe.  Then,  as  though  he  had  been  thinking 
very  much  whilst  speaking,  he  interrupted  himself  to  ask,  "By 
the  way,  and  the  marquis?  Were  we  not  to  have  seen  him?" 

"Why,  yes;  my  father  certainly  promised,"  replied  the  countess. 
"I  am  beginning  to  feel  uneasy.  His  work  must  have  detained 
him." 

Vandeuvres  smiled  discreetly.  He  also  seemed  to  have  a 
doubt  as  to  the  nature  of  the  work  on  which  the  Marquis  de 
Chouard  was  engaged.  He  had  thought  of  a  charming  person 
whom  the  marquis  sometimes  took  into  the  country.  Perhaps 


NANA 

they  might  be  able  to  get  her  for  the  supper.  However,  Fauchery 
thought  the  time  had  come  for  acquainting  Count  Muffat  with 
the  invitation  he  had  for  him.  It  was  getting  late. 

"Do  you  seriously  mean  it?"  asked  Vandeuvres,  who  thought 
it  was  a  joke. 

"Most  seriously.  If  I  don't  ask  him,  she  will  scratch  my  eyes 
out.  It's  a  whim  of  hers,  you  know." 

"Then  I'll  help  you,  my  boy." 

The  clock  struck  eleven.  The  countess  and  her  daughter  served 
the  tea.  As  there  were  scarcely  any  but  intimate  friends,  the 
cups  and  plates  of  biscuits  and  cake  were  familiarly  handed  round. 
The  ladies  remained  in  their  chairs  before  the  fire,  sipping  their 
tea,  and  crunching  the  biscuits  which  they  held  between  the  tips 
of  their  fingers.  From  music  the  conversation  dwindled  to  trades- 
men. There  was  no  one  like  Boissier  for  sweets,  and  Catherine 
for  ices;  Madame  Chantereau,  however,  preferred  Latinville.  The 
talk  slackened,  a  weariness  seemed  to  seize  upon  every  one.  Steiner 
had  resumed  his  attack  on  the  deputy,  whom  he  blockaded  in  the 
corner  of  a  sofa.  M.  Venot,  whose  teeth  had  probably  been  de- 
stroyed by  sweetmeats,  was  rapidly  devouring  some  hard  cakes, 
making  a  little  noise  like  a  mouse;  whilst  the  head  of  the  depart- 
ment, his  nose  in  his  cup,  never  seemed  to  have  had  enough.  And 
the  countess,  without  the  least  hurry,  moved  from  one  to  another, 
not  pressing  them,  but  standing  a  few  seconds  looking  at  the  men 
in  a  sort  of  silent  interrogative  manner,  then  smiling  and  passing 
on.  The  heat  of  the  fire  had  given  quite  a  colour  to  her  face,  and 
she  seemed  to  be  the  sister  of  her  daughter,  who  looked  so  skinny 
and  awkward  beside  her.  As  she  drew  near  to  Fauchery,  who  was 
conversing  with  her  husband  and  Vandeuvres,  she  noticed  that 
they  left  off  talking.  She  did  not  stop,  but,  passing  further  on, 
offered  George  Hugon  the  cup  of  tea  she  was  carrying. 

"  It  is  a  lady  who  desires  your  company  at  supper,"  gaily  resumed 
the  journalist,  addressing  Count  Muffat. 

The  latter,  whose  countenance  had  retained  its  dark  look  all  the 
evening,  seemed  greatly  surprised.  What  lady  could  they  mean? 

"Why,  Nana!"  said  Vandeuvres,  so  as  to  have  it  out  at 
once. 

The  count  became  still  more  serious.  He  scarcely  moved  his 
eyelids,  whilst  a  pain,  like  a  twitch  of  neuralgia,  passed  over 
his  face.  "But  I  do  not  know  the  lady."  he  murmured. 

C68] 


NANA 

"Oh!  come  now!  Why  you  went  and  called  on  her,"  observed 
Vandeuvres. 

"What!  I  called  on  her.  Ah!  yes,  the  other  day,  for  the  poor 
relief  committee.  I  had  forgotten  all  about  it.  All  the  same, 
I  do  not  know  her.  I  cannot  accept." 

He  assumed  his  most  dignified  air,  to  let  them  understand  that 
he  considered  their  joke  in  very  bad  taste.  The  place  of  a  man 
of  his  rank  was  not  at  the  table  of  such  a  woman.  Vandeuvres 
protested:  it  was  merely  a  supper  given  to  some  actresses;  talent 
excused  everything.  But  without  listening  to  him  any  more  than 
to  Fauchery,  who  began  to  tell  him  of  a  dinner  at  which  a  prince, 
the  son  of  a  queen,  had  sat  next  to  a  woman  who  used  to  sing 
at  music-halls,  the  count  gave  a  most  decided  refusal.  He  even, 
in  spite  of  his  great  politeness,  accompanied  it  with  a  gesture  of 
annoyance. 

George  and  La  Faloise,  standing  up  drinking  their  tea  in  front 
of  each  other,  had  overheard  the  few  words  that  had  been  ex- 
changed so  near  them.  "Halloo!  so  it's  to  be  at  Nana's,"  mur- 
mured La  Faloise.  "I  might  have  known  it!" 

George  said  nothing,  but  he  became  very  red  in  the  face,  his 
fair  hair  was  all  ruffled,  his  blue  eyes  were  shining  like  candles. 
The  vice  with  which  he  had  mixed  during  the  last  few  days  in- 
flamed and  excited  him.  At  last  then,  he  was  about  to  meet 
with  all  that  he  had  dreamed  of.  "The  nuisance  is,  I  don't  know 
the  address,"  resumed  La  Faloise. 

"Boulevard  Haussmann,  between  the  Rue  de  P Arcade  and  the 
Rue  Pasquier,  on  the  third  floor,"  said  George,  all  in  a  breath; 
and  as  the  other  looked  at  him  with  astonishment,  he  added, 
becoming  redder  still  in  the  face,  and  bursting  with  conceit  and 
confusion,  "I  am  going;  she  invited  me  this  morning." 

Just  at  this  moment  there  was  a  great  commotion  in  the  draw- 
ing-room. Vandeuvres  and  Fauchery  were  therefore  unable  to 
press  the  count  any  further.  The  Marquis  de  Chouard  had 
arrived,  and  every  one  hastened  to  greet  him.  He  seemed  to 
move  along  very  painfully,  his  legs  almost  giving  way  beneath 
him;  and  he  at  length  stood  still  in  the  middle  of  the  room,  his 
face  ashy  pale,  and  his  eyes  blinking,  as  though  he  had  just 
come  out  of  some  very  dark  place  and  was  quite  blinded  by  the 
light  of  the  lamps. 

"I  had  quite  given  up  expecting  to  see  you,  father,"  said  the 

C693 


NANA 

countess.  "I  should  have  been  quite  uneasy  until  I  heard  from 
you  to-morrow." 

He  looked  at  her  without  replying,  like  a  man  who  does  not 
understand.  His  nose,  which  appeared  very  big  on  his  clean- 
shaven face,  looked  like  an  enormous  gathering;  whilst  his  under- 
lip  drooped.  Madame  Hugon,  full  of  kindliness,  seeing  him  so 
depressed,  pitied  him. 

"You  work  too  much.  You  ought  to  rest.  At  our  age  we 
should  leave  work  to  the  younger  ones." 

"Work,  ah!  yes,  work,"  he  at  length  stammered  out.  "Always 
plenty  of  work." 

He  was  becoming  himself  again.  He  straightened  his  bent 
frame,  passing  his  hand  in  a  way  familiar  with  him  over  his 
white  hair,  the  scanty  locks  of  which  were  brushed  behind  his 
ears. 

"What  is  it  you  work  at  so  late?"  asked  Madame  Du  Joncquoy. 
"I  thought  you  were  at  the  reception  held  by  the  Minister  of 
Finance?" 

But  the  countess  interposed,  "My  father  had  to  study  some 
parliamentary  bill." 

"Yes,  a  parliamentary  bill,"  said  he,  "a  bill,  exactly.  I  shut 
myself  in.  It  was  in  respect  to  factories.  I  wish  them  to  be  closed 
on  Sundays.  It  is  really  shameful  that  the  government  does  not 
display  more  energy  in  the  matter.  The  churches  are  now  scarcely 
frequented;  it  will  all  end  in  a  great  catastrophe." 

Vandeuvres  glanced  at  Fauchery.  They  were  both  behind  the 
Marquis,  and  they  kept  near  him.  When  Vandeuvres  was  able 
to  take  him  on  one  side,  to  ask  him  about  the  charming  person 
whom  he  was  in  the  habit  of  taking  into  the  country,  the  old  man 
affected  great  surprise.  Perhaps  they  had  seen  him  with  Baroness 
Decker,  at  whose  house  at  Viroflay  he  sometimes  spent  a  few 
days.  Vandeuvres,  for  revenge,  asked  him  suddenly,  "I  say, 
wherever  have  you  been?  Your  elbow  is  all  covered  with  cob- 
webs and  plaster." 

"My  elbow,"  he  murmured,  slightly  troubled.  "Why,  so  it 
is!  A  little  dirt.  I  must  have  got  that  somehow  as  I  came 
here." 

Several  persons  were  leaving.  It  was  close  upon  midnight. 
Two  footmen  silently  removed  the  empty  cups  and  the  plates 
of  cake.  The  ladies  were  still  sitting  in  front  of  the  fire,  though 

C703 


NANA 

in  a  smaller  circle  than  before,  conversing  more  freely  in  the  languor 
of  the  end  of  an  evening.  Even  the  room  itself  seemed  overcome 
with  drowsiness,  and  heavy  shadows  lingered  about  the  walls. 
Then  Fauchery  talked  of  retiring.  However,  his  eyes  once  more 
sought  Countess  Sabine.  Having  seen  to  her  guests,  she  was 
now  resting  in  her  accustomed  seat,  saying  nothing,  her  glance 
fixed  on  a  a  log  that  was  gradually  burning  away,  and  her  face 
so  white  and  impenetrable,  that  his  doubts  returned  to  him.  The 
little  black  hairs  on  the  mark  she  had  near  the  corner  of  her  mouth 
seemed  quite  golden  in  the  firelight  —  exactly  the  same  as  Nana's 
even  to  the  colour.  He  could  not  resist  whispering  to  Vandeuvres 
about  it.  It  was  really  quite  true,  he  had  never  noticed  it  before; 
and  they  continued  the  parallel  between  Nana  and  the  countess. 
They  discovered  a  vague  resemblance  about  the  chin  and  the 
mouth;  but  the  eyes  were  not  at  all  alike.  There  Nana  looked 
thoroughly  kind-hearted  and  good-natured;  whilst  the  countess 
was  altogether  doubtful  —  one  would  have  said  a  cat  asleep,  with 
her  claws  hidden  away,  and  her  paws  only  slightly  agitated  with 
a  nervous  tremble. 

"All  the  same  she's  a  fine  woman,"  declared  Fauchery. 

Vandeuvres  seemed  to  unrobe  her  with  a  glance.  "Yes,  all 
the  same,"  said  he.  "But,  you  know,  I  have  great  doubts  as 
to  her  thighs.  She  hasn't  any  worth  speaking  of,  I'll  bet!" 

He  stopped  as  Fauchery  sharply  nudged  his  elbow,  and  directed 
his  attention  to  Estelle,  who  was  seated  on  her  stool  in  front  of 
them.  They  had  raised  their  voices  without  noticing  her,  and 
she  had  most  likely  overheard  them.  However,  she  remained 
upright  and  immovable,  with  her  skinny  neck  of  a  girl  growing 
too  fast,  and  on  which  not  the  smallest  hair  had  turned.  So 
they  moved  away  a  few  steps,  and  Vandeuvres  expressed  his 
opinion  that  the  countess  was  a  most  virtuous  woman. 

At  this  moment,  the  ladies  seated  round  the  fire  having  raised 
their  voices,  Madame  Du  Joncquoy  was  heard  to  say,  "I  have 
admitted  that  Count  Bismarck  may  possess  some  wit.  However, 
if  you  pretend  he  has  genius  — "  They  had  once  more  returned 
to  their  first  subject  of  conversation. 

"What!  Bismarck  again!  "  murmured  Fauchery.  "Well,  this 
time  I  will  indeed  be  off." 

"Wait  a  minute"  said  Vandeuvres.  "We  must  have  a  final 
'no'  from  the  count." 

£71  3 


NANA 

Count  Muffat  was  conversing  with  his  father-in-law  and  a  few 
serious-looking  men.  Vandeuvres  took  him  to  one  side,  and 
repeated  the  invitation  more  pressingly,  saying  that  he  himself 
was  going  to  the  supper.  A  man  could  go  anywhere.  No  one 
would  think  of  seeing  harm  where,  at  the  most,  there  was  only 
a  little  curiosity.  The  count  listened  to  these  arguments  with 
downcast  eyes  and  immovable  features.  Vandeuvres  noticed  that 
he  seemed  to  hesitate,  when  the  Marquis  de  Chouard  joined  them, 
with  a  look  of  interrogation  on  his  face;  and  when  the  latter 
was  made  acquainted  with  the  subject  under  discussion,  when 
Fauchery  invited  him  also,  he  glanced  furtively  at  his  son-in- 
law.  There  was  a  moment  of  silence  and  embarrassment;  but 
they  encouraged  each  other,  and  they  would  no  doubt  have 
ended  by  accepting,  if  Count  MufFat  had  not  noticed  that  M. 
Venot  was  watching  him  fixedly.  The  little  old  man  no  longer 
smiled,  his  face  bore  a  cadaverous  expression,  his  eyes  were 
sharp  and  piercing  like  gimlets. 

"No,"  replied  the  count  at  once,  in  such  a  decided  tone  of 
voice  that  there  was  nothing  more  to  be  said. 

Then  the  marquis  declined  more  sternly  still.  He  talked  of 
morality.  The  upper  classes  ought  to  set  an  example.  Fauchery 
smiled,  and  shook  hands  with  Vandeuvres.  He  would  not  wait 
for  him,  but  went  off  at  once,  as  he  had  to  look  in  at  the  office 
of  his  paper. 

"At  Nana's  at  midnight,  don't  forget." 

La  Faloise  was  leaving  also,  and  Steiner  had  just  taken  leave 
of  the  countess.  Other  men  were  following  them,  and  the  same 
words  were  whispered  on  all  sides,  each  one  repeating,  "At  Nana's 
at  midnight,"  as  he  put  on  his  overcoat  in  the  anteroom.  George, 
who  was  waiting  for  his  mother,  stood  in  the  doorway,  and  gave 
them  all  the  correct  address  —  the  third  floor,  the  door  on  the 
left  hand  side.  Before  retiring,  Fauchery  gave  one  last  look 
round.  Vandeuvres  had  resumed  his  place  in  the  midst  of  the 
ladies,  and  was  jesting  with  Leonide  de  Chezelles.  Count  Muffat 
and  the  Marquis  de  Chouard  were  joining  in  the  conversation, 
whilst  worthy  Madame  Hugon  was  going  to  sleep  with  her  eyes 
open.  Behind  the  ladies'  petticoats,  M.  Venot,  making  himself 
scarce  again,  had  recovered  his  smile,  and  in  the  big,  solemn 
room  the  clock  slowly  struck  midnight. 

"What!  what! "    Madame  Du  Joncquoy  was  exclaiming,  "you 

£723 


NANA 

think  that  Count  Bismarck  will  declare  war  against  us,  and  that 
he  will  beat  us?  Oh!  that's  too  much!" 

They  were,  in  fact,  all  laughing  at  Madame  Chantereau,  who 
had  just  made  the  statement,  which  she  had  heard  in  Alsace, 
where  her  husband  owned  a  factory. 

"The  Emperor  is  watching,  thank  goodness,"  said  Count 
Muffat,  with  official  solemnity. 

These  were  the  last  words  that  Fauchery  heard.  He  closed 
the  door,  after  looking  once  more  at  Countess  Sabine.  She  was 
calmly  conversing  with  the  head  of  the  department,  and  seemed 
interested  in  the  talk  of  the  stout  man.  Most  certainly  he  must 
have  been  mistaken,  there  was  no  flaw.  It  was  a  pity. 

"Well,  aren't  you  coming?"  called  La  Faloise  to  him  from  the 
hall. 

And  outside,  on  the  pavement,  as  they  bid  each  other  good 
night,  they  both  again  repeated,  "To-morrow,  at  Nana's." 


C733 


CHAPTER  IV 

EVER  since  the  morning,  Zoe  had  given  up  the  entire  apart- 
ment to  a  person  who  had  arrived  from  Brebant's  with  quite 
a  staff  of  waiters  and  other  assistants.  Brebant  was  to 
furnish  everything  —  the  supper,  the  glass  and  crockery,  the 
table-linen,  flowers,  and  even  seats  and  stools.  Nana  would  not 
have  found  a  dozen  napkins  if  she  had  ransacked  all  her  cup- 
boards, and,  not  having  as  yet  had  time  to  set  herself  up  in  every- 
thing since  her  new  start  in  life,  disdaining  to  go  to  a  restaurant, 
she  had  preferred  to  make  the  restaurant  come  to  her.  It  was 
more  the  thing.  She  wished  to  celebrate  her  great  success  as  an 
actress  by  a  supper  which  would  be  the  talk  of  every  one.  As 
the  dining-room  was  too  small,  they  had  set  up  the  table  in  the 
drawing-room  —  a  table  on  which  places  for  twenty-five  had  been 
laid  rather  close  together. 

"Is  everything  ready?"  asked  Nana,  on  returning  home  at 
midnight. 

"Oh!  I  don't  know,"  roughly  replied  Zoe,  who  seemed  alto- 
gether out  of  sorts.  "Thank  goodness!  I  have  nothing  to  do 
with  it.  They  are  smashing  everything  in  the  kitchen  and  all 
over  the  place!  With  all  that,  I've  had  another  row.  The  other 
two  have  been  again.  Upon  my  word,  I  chucked  them  out  of 
the  place." 

She  was  speaking  of  madame's  two  ex-gentlemen  —  the  trades- 
man and  the  Wallachian  —  whom  Nana  had  decided  to  dismiss; 
for,  being  now  certain  as  to  the  future,  she  wished  to  turn  over 
a  new  leaf,  as  she  called  it. 

" What  an  abominable  nuisance  they  are ! "  she  murmured.  "If 
they  come  again,  threaten  them  with  the  commissary  of 
police." 

Then  she  called  Daguenet  and  George,  who  had  remained  in 
the  anteroom,  hanging  up  their  overcoats.  They  had  met  at 
the  stage-door  in  the  Passage  des  Panoramas,  and  she  had  brought 

C743 


NANA 

them  in  her  cab.  As  no  one  else  had  then  arrived,  she  called  to 
them  to  come  into  the  dressing-room  whilst  Zoe  got  her  ready. 
In  haste,  and  without  changing  her  things,  she  had  her  hair  done 
up,  and  placed  some  white  roses  in  it  and  some  others  in  her  dress. 
The  dressing-room  was  all  encumbered  with  the  furniture  of  the 
drawing-room,  which  had  been  placed  there  —  a  lot  of  little 
round  tables,  sofas,  and  arm-chairs,  one  on  the  top  of  the  other 
—  and  she  was  quite  ready,  when  her  skirt  caught  on  one  of 
the  castors  and  tore.  Then,  in  her  fury,  she  swore  and  cursed. 
Such  accidents  only  happened  to  her.  She  tugged  at  her  dress 
with  rage,  and  pulled  it  off.  It  was  made  of  a  soft  white  silk, 
so  simple,  so  supple,  and  so  fine,  that  it  enveloped  her  like  a 
long  chemise.  But,  not  finding  another  dress  to  her  taste,  she 
put  it  on  again  at  once,  almost  crying,  and  saying  she  would 
look  like  a  rag-picker.  Daguenet  and  George  fastened  up  the 
tear  with  pins,  whilst  Zoe  tidied  her  hair  once  more.  All  three 
busied  themselves  round  about  her,  the  youngster  especially,  who 
was  on  his  knees  on  the  floor,  his  hands  buried  in  her  skirt. 
She  at  length  became  calmer,  when  Daguenet  assured  her  it  could 
not  be  more  than  a  quarter  past  midnight,  for  she  had  so  hurried 
the  last  act  of  the  "Blonde  Venus,"  scamping  the  cues,  and  skip- 
ping entire  verses. 

"  It  was,  anyhow,  quite  good  enough  for  all  those  fools,"  said 
she.  "Did  you  notice?  they  were  a  rum-looking  lot  to-night! 
Zoe,  my  girl,  you  will  have  to  wait  here.  Don't  go  to  bed,  as  I 
may  perhaps  want  you.  By  jingo!  just  in  time.  Here's  some 
one." 

She  hastened  out  of  the  room,  leaving  George  on  the  floor,  his 
coat  tails  sweeping  the  carpet.  He  blushed  as  he  noticed  Dague- 
net watching  him.  However,  they  had  begun  to  feel  a  certain 
affection  for  each  other.  They  re-arranged  their  neckties  in  front 
of  the  big  looking-glass,  and  gave  one  another  a  brush,  to  get 
rid  of  the  white  powder  that  hung  about  their  clothes  from  their 
contact  with  Nana. 

"It's  just  like  sugar,"  murmured  George,  with  a  laugh  of  a 
greedy  baby. 

A  footman,  hired  for  the  night,  ushered  the  guests  into  the 
parlour  —  a  narrow  room,  in  which  four  easy-chairs  only  had  been 
left,  so  as  to  leave  more  space  for  the  people.  From  the  drawing- 
room  close  by  could  be  heard  a  noise  of  crockery  and  plate  being 


NANA 

moved  about;  whilst  a  bright  light  shone  under  the  door.  Nana, 
on  entering,  found  Clarisse  Besnus,  whom  La  Faloise  had  brought, 
already  seated  in  one  of  the  chairs. 

"  What!  you  are  the  first! "  said  Nana,  who  treated  her  familiarly 
since  her  own  success. 

"Well!  it's  his  fault,"  replied  Clarisse.  "He  is  always  afraid 
of  being  too  late.  If  I  had  listened  to  him,  I  should  not  even 
have  waited  to  take  my  wig  and  my  make-up  off." 

The  young  man,  who  met  Nana  for  the  first  time,  bowed  and 
complimented  her,  spoke  of  his  cousin,  and  sought  to  hide  his 
confusion  under  an  excess  of  politeness.  But  Nana,  without 
listening  to  him,  without  even  knowing  who  he  was,  shook  his 
hand,  and  hastened  to  receive  Rose  Mignon.  She  became,  at 
once,  most  ladylike. 

"Ah!  dear  madame,  how  kind  of  you!  I  longed  so  much  to 
have  you  with  us!" 

"It  is  I  who  am  charmed,  I  assure  you,"  said  Rose,  equally 
amiable. 

"  Pray  sit  down.    Do  you  require  anything?  " 

"No,  thank  you.  Ah!  I  have  forgotten  my  fan  in  my  pelisse. 
See,  Steiner,  in  the  right  hand  pocket." 

Steiner  and  Mignon  had  entered  behind  Rose.  The  banker 
went  out  and  returned  with  the  fan;  whilst  Mignon  fraternally 
embraced  Nana,  and  made  Rose  kiss  her  too.  Were  they  not  all 
of  the  same  family,  they  of  the  theatre?  Then  he  winked  his 
eye,  as  though  to  encourage  Steiner;  but  the  latter,  disconcerted 
by  Rose's  fixed  look,  did  not  venture  to  do  more  than  kiss  Nana's 
hand.  Just  then  the  Count  de  Yandeuvres  arrived  with  Blanche 
de  Sivry.  There  was  a  great  deal  of  bowing  and  curtseying. 
Nana  most  ceremoniously  led  Blanche  to  a  chair.  Vandeuvres 
laughingly  related  that  Fauchery  was  having  a  row  below,  because 
the  concierge  would  not  allow  Lucy  Stewart's  carriage  to  enter 
the  courtyard.  They  could  hear  Lucy  Stewart  in  the  anteroom 
speaking  of  the  concierge  as  a  dirty  blackguard.  But  when  the 
footman  opened  the  door,  she  advanced  graceful  and  smiling, 
pronounced  her  name  herself,  and  took  hold  of  both  Nana's 
hands,  saying  she  loved  her  as  soon  as  ever  she  saw  her,  and  that 
she  thought  she  had  a  wonderful  talent.  Nana,  all  proud  of  her 
position  as  mistress  of  the  house,  but  greatly  confused,  murmured 
her  thanks.  She  seemed,  too,  to  be  rather  pre-occupied  ever  since 


NANA 

Fauchery's  arrival.  As  soon  as  she  was  able  to  get  near  him,  she 
asked  in  a  low  voice.  "  Will  he  come?  " 

"No,  he  declined,"  roughly  replied  the  journalist,  taken  un- 
awares, although  he  had  prepared  a  long  rigmarole  to  explain 
Count  MufFat's  refusal.  He  at  once  saw  his  stupidity  as  he  noticed 
how  the  young  woman  paled,  and  he  tried  to  modify  what  he 
had  said.  " He  was  not  able  to  come;  he  has  to  take  the  countess 
to-night  to  the  ball  at  the  Ministry  of  the  Interior.'* 

"All  right,"  murmured  Nana,  who  suspected  he  had  not  troubled 
himself  in  the  matter,  "I'll  make  you  smart  for  that,  my  boy." 

"Look  here!"  he  returned,  indignant  at  the  menace,  "I  don't 
care  for  such  errands.  Another  time  give  them  to  Labordette." 

They  were  both  quite  angry  and  turned  their  backs  on  each 
other.  At  that  moment  Mignon  pushed  Steiner  up  against  Nana. 
When  she  was  alone  he  said  to  her  in  a  low  voice,  with  the  good- 
natured  cynicism  of  a  pal  wishing  to  oblige  a  friend,  "You  know, 
he's  dying  for  love  of  you.  Only,  he's  afraid  of  my  wife.  You'll 
protect  him,  won't  you?  " 

Nana  pretended  not  to  understand.  She  smiled,  and  looked  at 
Rose,  her  husband,  and  the  banker;  then  she  said  to  the  latter, 
"M.  Steiner,  you  will  sit  next  to  me." 

But  sounds  of  laughter  were  heard  coming  from  the  anteroom, 
there  were  whisperings,  and  then  quite  a  hubbub  of  gay  voices  all 
speaking  at  once,  as  though  a  whole  convent  full  of  girls  had  been 
let  loose  there.  Suddenly  Labordette  appeared,  dragging  five 
women  behind  him  —  his  school,  as  Lucy  Stewart  maliciously 
termed  them.  There  was  Gaga,  looking  very  majestic  in  a  blue 
velvet  dress  that  was  a  great  deal  too  tight  for  her,  Caroline 
Hequet,  always  in  black  Flemish  silk  trimmed  with  Chantilly  lace, 
then  Lea  de  Horn,  most  slovenly  dressed  as  usual,  plump  Tatan 
Nene,  a  jolly  fair  girl  with  the  breast  of  a  wet-nurse,  whom  every 
one  made  fun  of,  and  finally  little  Maria  Blond,  a  girl  of  fifteen, 
as  thin  and  as  wicked  as  a  street-arab,  and  who  was  becoming 
quite  the  fashion  ever  since  her  first  appearance  at  the  Folies- 
Dramatiques  Theatre.  Labordette  had  brought  them  all  in  the 
same  cab;  and  they  were  still  laughing  at  the  recollection  of  how 
they  had  been  squeezed  together,  with  Maria  Blond  on  the  others' 
knees.  But  they  composed  themselves,  shaking  hands  and  bowing 
all  round,  like  the  most  respectable  people.  Gaga  acted  quite 
childishly,  and  even  stuttered  in  her  attempts  to  behave  well. 

IT773 


NANA 

Tatan  Nene,  however,  who  had  been  told  coming  along  that  six 
naked  niggers  would  wait  on  them  during  Nana's  supper,  became 
very  uneasy  at  not  seeing  them.  Labordette  called  her  a  goose, 
and  told  her  to  hold  her  tongue. 

"And  Bordenave?"  inquired  Fauchery. 

"Oh!  I  am  really  quite  upset,"  cried  Nana,  "he  will  not  be 
able  to  join  us." 

"Yes,"  said  Rose  Mignon,  "his  foot  caught  in  a  trap-door  and 
he  has  sprained  his  ankle  most  abominably.  If  you  had  only  heard 
him  swear,  with  his  leg  all  tied  up  and  stretched  out  on  a  chair! " 

Then,  they  all  expressed  their  regret.  No  one  ever  gave  a 
good  supper  without  Bordenave.  However,  they  must  try  to  do 
without  him.  And  they  were  already  talking  of  something  else, 
when  the  sound  of  a  loud  voice  reached  them  — 

"What  next!  what  next!  so  that's  the  way  I'm  buried  and  for- 
gotten!" 

There  was  a  shout,  and  all  the  heads  were  turned  in  the  direction 
of  the  door.  It  was  Bordenave  —  enormous  in  size  and  very  red, 
his  leg  stretched  out  straight  —  who  appeared  leaning  on  Simone 
Cabiroche's  shoulder.  For  the  time  being,  Simone  was  the  lady 
of  his  affections.  The  child,  who  had  received  a  good  education, 
being  able  to  play  the  piano  and  speak  English,  was  fair  and  very 
pretty,  but  so  delicate  that  she  quite  bent  beneath  Bordenave's 
heavy  weight,  though  smiling  and  submissive  all  the  time.  He 
stood  still  for  a  few  seconds,  conscious  that  they  made  quite  a 
picture. 

"Well!  what  do  you  say?  just  see  how  I  love  you,"  he  con- 
tinued. "The  truth  is,  I  was  afraid  I  should  feel  deuced  dull,  so 
I  said  to  myself,  '  I  shall  go. ' '  But  he  interrupted  himself  with 
an  oath,  "Damnation!" 

Simone  had  made  a  step  rather  too  quickly,  and  his  foot  had 
touched  the  ground.  He  abused  and  shook  her.  She,  without 
ceasing  her  smile,  held  down  her  pretty  face  like  an  animal  that 
is  afraid  of  being  beaten,  supporting  him  with  all  the  strength 
of  a  plump  little  blonde.  However,  in  the  midst  of  his  exclamation, 
the  others  hastened  to  assist  him.  Nana  and  Rose  Mignon  wheeled 
forward  an  arm-chair,  into  which  Bordenave  allowed  himself  to  be 
placed,  whilst  the  other  women  slipped  another  chair  beneath 
his  injured  leg;  and  all  the  actresses,  who  were  there,  kissed  him 
as  a  matter  of  course.  He  groaned,  he  sighed. 

[78] 


NANA 

"Confound  it!  confound  it!  Anyhow,  the  stomach's  all  right, 
as  you'll  soon  see." 

Other  guests  had  arrived,  and  one  could  scarcely  move  about  in 
the  room.  The  noise  of  the  plate  and  the  crockery  had  ceased; 
but  now  the  sound  of  a  quarrel  came  from  the  drawing-room, 
where  the  head-waiter  was  speaking  in  a  furious  tone  of  voice. 
Nana  was  becoming  very  impatient,  for,  not  expecting  any  one 
else,  she  was  surprised  the  supper  was  not  served.  She  had  sent 
George  off  to  see  what  the  waiters  were  about,  when,  to  her  great 
surprise,  some  more  people,  both  men  and  women,  entered  the 
room.  These  last  comers  she  did  not  know  at  all.  Then,  scarcely 
knowing  what  to  think,  she  questioned  Bordenave,  Mignon,  Labor- 
dette.  But  they  were  not  acquainted  with  them  either.  When 
she  spoke  to  the  Count  de  Vandeuvres,  he  suddenly  recollected; 
they  were  the  young  men  that  he  had  got  hold  of  at  Count  Muffat's. 
Nana  thanked  him.  It  was  all  right,  all  right.  Only  they  would 
have  to  sit  very  close  together;  and  she  asked  Labordette  to  have 
seven  more  places  laid.  He  had  scarcely  left  the  room,  when  the 
footman  ushered  in  three  more  persons.  Oh!  this  time  it  was  be- 
coming too  ridiculous;  there  would  never  be  room  for  every  one. 
Nana,  who  was  beginning  to  lose  her  temper,  said  in  her  grandest 
style  that  it  was  scarcely  proper.  But,  seeing  two  more  arrive, 
she  burst  out  laughing,  she  thought  it  altogether  too  funny.  So 
much  the  worse!  they  would  have  to  make  room  for  each  other 
the  best  way  they  could.  They  were  all  standing  up  except  Gaga 
and  Rose  Mignon,  and  Bordenave  who  monopolized  to  himself  two 
of  the  four  chairs.  There  was  a  regular  hum  of  voices,  they  talked 
low  and  now  and  again  suppressed  some  slight  yawns. 

"I  say,  my  child,"  observed  Bordenave,  "supposing  we  ad- 
journ to  supper.  We  have  our  full  number,  have  we  not?" 

"Oh!  yes,  to  be  sure  we  have  our  full  number!"  she  replied, 
laughing. 

She  looked  about  her.  But  she  suddenly  became  serious,  as 
though  surprised  at  not  seeing  some  one  there.  There  was  doubt- 
less still  one  guest  missing,  of  whom  she  had  not  spoken.  They 
must  wait.  A  few  minutes  later  they  noticed  in  their  midst  a  tall 
gentleman  with  a  noble-looking  countenance  and  a  handsome  white 
beard.  And  the  strange  thing  was  that  no  one  had  seen  him  enter 
the  room;  he  must  have  got  into  the  parlour  from  the  bedroom  by 
a  door  that  was  left  ajar.  Only  some  whispering  broke  the  silence. 

C793 


NANA 

Count  de  Vandeuvres  evidently  knew  the  gentleman,  for  they  had 
very  discreetly  shaken  each  other  by  the  hand,  but  he  only  an- 
swered the  women's  questions  with  a  smile.  Then  Caroline  Hequet, 
in  a  low  voice,  bet  he  was  an  English  nobleman  who  was  returning 
to  London  on  the  morrow  to  be  married;  she  knew  him  well,  in 
fact  only  too  well.  This  story  went  the  round  of  the  ladies,  only 
Maria  Blond  pretended,  on  her  side,  that  he  was  a  German  am- 
bassador, and  to  prove  it  said  that  he  was  most  intimately  acquain- 
ted with  one  of  her  lady  friends.  The  men,  in  a  few  words,  rapidly 
judged  him.  He  looked  like  a  person  of  means.  Perhaps  he  stood 
the  supper.  It  was  probable.  It  appeared  like  it.  Well!  what 
did  it  matter  so  long  as  the  supper  was  good?  At  all  events,  every 
one  remained  in  doubt;  they  were  already  forgetting  the  presence 
of  the  old  gentleman  with  the  white  beard,  when  the  head-waiter 
opened  the  drawing-room  door. 

"Madame  is  served." 

Nana  took  Steiner's  arm,  without  seeming  to  notice  a  movement 
on  the  part  of  the  old  gentleman,  who  therefore  walked  behind  her, 
all  by  himself.  Besides,  it  was  out  of  the  question  to  go  in  in  couples. 
The  men  and  women  all  entered  anyhow,  pleasantly  joking  on  the 
want  of  ceremony,  like  so  many  worthy  tradespeople.  A  long  table 
stretched  from  one  end  of  the  large  room  to  the  other,  and  yet  this 
table  was  too  small,  for  the  plates  on  it  all  touched.  Four  cande- 
labra, with  ten  candles  each,  lighted  it  up;  there  was  one  especially 
in  plated  metal,  with  sheaves  of  flowers  on  either  side.  It  was  the 
luxury  of  a  restaurant  —  plates  and  dishes  without  initials  or 
crests,  but  with  gold  lines  round  them,  plate  worn  and  tarnished 
by  constant  washings,  glasses  that  were  almost  all  odd  ones  and  of 
the  commonest  patterns.  It  was  like  a  house-warming  given  too 
soon,  in  the  midst  of  a  sudden  accession  to  fortune,  and  before 
anything  had  been  put  straight.  A  gasalier  was  wanting;  the 
candles  of  the  candelabra,  being  very  tall,  could  only  be  snuffed 
with  difficulty,  and  shed  a  yellow  and  feeble  light  over  the  dessert 
dishes,  the  centrepieces,  and  the  glass  plates  in  which  the  fruit, 
the  cakes,  and  the  preserves  were  alternated  symmetrically. 

"You  know,"  said  Nana,  "you  must  all  seat  yourselves  as  you 
like.  It's  more  amusing." 

She  was  standing  up  at  the  middle  of  the  table.  The  old  gentle- 
man, whom  no  one  knew,  had  placed  himself  on  her  right,  whilst 
she  kept  Steiner  on  her  left.  Some  of  the  guests  were  already 


NAN  A 

seating  themselves,  when  a  storm  of  oaths  issued  from  the  parlour. 
It  was  Bordenave  who  had  been  forgotten,  and  who  had  the  great- 
est difficulty  in  the  world  in  getting  up  from  his  two  chairs,  bawling 
away,  shouting  for  that  jade  Simone,  gone  off  with  the  others. 
The  women,  full  of  pity,  hastened  to  him.  Bordenave  soon 
appeared,  supported,  almost  carried,  by  Caroline,  Clarisse,  Tatan 
Nene,  and  Maria  Blond,  and  it  was  quite  an  affair  to  place  him 
comfortably. 

"In  the  middle  of  the  table,  opposite  Nana!"  they  all  cried. 
"Bordenave  in  the  middle!  He  shall  preside!" 

Then  the  ladies  seated  him  in  the  place  indicated;  but  he 
required  a  second  chair  for  his  leg.  Two  of  the  women  raised  the 
injured  limb  and  carefully  placed  it  out  straight.  It  didn't  matter, 
he  would  only  have  to  eat  sideways. 

"Confound  it  all!"  he  groaned;  "it's  a  deuced  tight  fit!  Ah, 
my  little  darlings!  you  must  look  well  after  papa." 

He  had  Rose  Mignon  on  his  right  hand  and  Lucy  Stewart  on 
his  left.  They  promised  to  take  every  care  of  him.  The  others 
now  all  hastened  to  seat  themselves.  The  Count  de  Vandeuvres 
placed  himself  between  Lucy  and  Clarisse,  and  Fauchery  between 
Rose  Mignon  and  Caroline  Hequet.  On  the  other  side  of  the 
table  Hector  de  la  Faloise  had  hurriedly  taken  the  seat  next  to 
Gaga,  in  spite  of  Clarisse,  who  sat  facing  them;  whilst  Mignon, 
who  stuck  as  close  as  possible  to  Steiner,  was  only  separated  from 
him  by  Blanche,  having  Tatan  Nene  on  his  left.  Then  came  Labor- 
dette,  whilst  at  the  ends  of  the  table  were  several  young  men  and 
some  women,  Simone,  Lea  de  Horn,  Maria  Blond,  all  jumbled  up 
together,  without  the  least  order.  It  was  there  that  Daguenet  and 
George  Hugon  sympathised  with  each  other  more  and  more  as 
they  smilingly  watched  Nana.  There  was  a  good  deal  of  chaffing, 
however,  as  two  persons  had  been  unable  to  find  seats.  The  men 
offered  their  knees.  Clarisse,  who  could  not  move  her  elbows, 
told  Vandeuvres  that  he  would  have  to  feed  her.  That  Borde- 
nave, he  occupied  such  a  lot  of  room  with  his  two  chairs !  There 
was  a  final  effort,  another  squeeze,  and  every  one  was  at  last 
seated;  but  as  Mignon  exclaimed,  they  were  packed  like  herrings 
in  a  barrel. 

"Asparagus  soup  —  Deslignac  soup,"  murmured  the  waiters, 
as  they  handed  round  the  plates  behind  the  guests. 

Bordenave  was  advising  every  one  to  take  the  Deslignac  soup, 


NANA 

when  a  shout  of  protestation  and  anger  rose.  The  door  had  a 
once  more  opened,  and  three  late  comers,  a  woman  and  two  men, 
had  entered  the  room.  Oh,  no!  it  was  too  much;  it  would  never 
do!  Nana,  however,  without  leaving  her  chair,  shaded  her  eyes, 
and  tried  to  see  if  she  knew  them.  The  woman  was  Louise  Violaine 
but  she  had  never  seen  the  men  before. 

"My  dear,"  said  Vandeuvres,  "this  gentleman,  M.  de  Foucar- 
mont,  whom  I  invited,  is  a  friend  of  mine  and  a  naval  officer." 

Foucarmont,  bowing  in  an  easy  sort  of  way,  added,  "And  I 
ventured  to  bring  one  of  my  friends." 

"Oh!  quite  right,  quite  right,"  said  Nana,  "pray  be  seated. 
Come,  Clarisse,  move  a  little  this  way.  You  have  lots  of  room 
over  there.  There,  now,  with  a  little  good  will." 

They  all  squeezed  together  closer  than  ever,  and  Foucarmont 
and  Louise  managed  to  get  a  tiny  corner  of  the  table  for  them- 
selves; but  the  friend  had  to  sit  at  some  distance  from  his  plate, 
and  eat  by  passing  his  arms  between  his  neighbours'  shoulders. 
The  waiters  removed  the  soup  plates,  and  truffled  rabbit  formed 
the  next  course.  Bordenave  created  quite  a  row  by  stating  that 
he  had  had  the  idea  of  bringing  PruIIiere,  Fontan,  and  old  Bosc. 
Nana  became  most  dignified  at  once.  She  said  sharply  that  she 
would  have  received  them  in  a  way  that  they  would  not  have 
liked.  If  she  had  wanted  her  comrades  she  was  quite  capable  of 
asking  them  herself.  No,  no;  she  would  have  none  of  that 
sort.  Old  Bosc  was  always  drunk,  PruIIiere  was  a  good  deal 
too  conceited;  and  as  for  Fontan,  he  made  himself  quite  un- 
bearable in  society,  with  his  loud  voice  and  his  stupidity.  Then, 
you  see,  such  wretched  strollers  as  they  were  always  out  of 
place  with  gentlemen. 

"Yes,  yes;  it's  quite  true,"  declared  Mignon. 

All  these  gentlemen  seated  round  the  table  looked  very  stylish 
in  their  dress  suits,  and  with  their  pale  faces,  which  their  fast  way 
of  living  rendered  all  the  more  refined.  The  old  gentleman  was 
very  deliberate  in  his  movements,  and  smiled  serenely,  as  though 
he  were  presiding  at  a  congress  of  diplomatists.  Vandeuvres 
was  so  exquisitely  polite  to  the  ladies  on  either  side  of  him,  that 
one  might  have  thought  him  at  Countess  Muffat's.  That  very 
morning  Nana  had  said  to  her  aunt  that  one  could  not  hope  for 
better  sort  of  men,  all  noble  or  else  rich  —  in  fact,  men  who  were 

C823 


NANA 

quite  the  fashion;  and  as  for  the  ladies,  they  behaved  themselves 
very  well.  A  few  —  Blanche,  Lea,  Louise —  had  come  with  low- 
neck  dresses.  Gaga  alone  displayed  more,  perhaps,  than  she  ought, 
especially  as  at  her  age  she  had  far  better  have  shown  nothing  at 
all.  Now  that  they  had  all  managed  to  seat  themselves,  the 
laughter  and  chaffing  ceased.  George  could  not  help  thinking  that 
he  had  assisted  at  much  livelier  meals  at  the  houses  of  the  middle- 
class  citizens  of  Orleans.  There  was  hardly  any  conversation.  The 
men,  not  knowing  one  another,  merely  stared,  and  the  women  kept 
very  quiet.  That  was  what  most  astonished  George.  He  thought 
them  very  slow  —  he  had  expected  that  there  would  have  been  a 
great  deal  of  kissing  at  once. 

They  were  serving  the  next  course,  consisting  of  Rhine  carp 
and  venison  cooked  in  the  English  style,  when  Blanche  said,  out 
loud,  "Lucy,  my  dear,  I  met  your  Ollivier  on  Sunday.  How  tall 
he  has  grown!" 

"Well,  you  know!  he  is  eighteen  years  old,"  replied  Lucy.  "It 
doesn't  make  me  look  any  the  younger.  He  went  back  to  school 
yesterday." 

Her  son  Ollivier,  of  whom  she  spoke  with  pride,  was  a  student 
at  the  naval  school.  Then  they  started  talking  of  the  children.  All 
the  ladies  became  very  tender-hearted.  Nana  told  them  how 
happy  she  was;  her  baby,  her  little  Louis,  was  now  at  her  aunt's, 
who  brought  him  to  see  her  every  morning  at  eleven  o'clock,  and 
she  took  him  into  bed  with  her,  where  he  played  with  Lulu,  her 
terrier.  It  would  make  you  laugh  to  see  them  get  under  the  clothes 
right  down  to  the  bottom  of  the  bed.  No  one  had  any  idea  how 
sharp  little  Louis  had  already  become. 

"Oh!  yesterday,  I  had  such  a  day  of  it!"  related  Rose  Mignon 
in  her  turn.  "Only  fancy,  I  went  and  fetched  Charles  and  Henri 
from  their  school,  and  in  the  evening  they  insisted  on  going  to  the 
theatre.  They  jumped  for  joy  and  clapped  their  little  hands: 
4 We  shall  see  mamma  act!  we  shall  see  mamma  act!'  Oh!  they 
were  quite  delighted!" 

Mignon  smiled  complacently,  his  eyes  wet  with  tears  of  paternal 
love.  "And  during  the  performance,"  he  continued,  "they  were 
so  funny,  looking  as  serious  as  men,  devouring  Rose  with  their 
eyes,  and  asking  me  why  their  mamma  hadn't  any  clothes  on  her 
legs." 

Every  one   round  the  table  burst  out  laughing.     Mignon  tri- 


NANA 

umphed,  flattered  in  his  paternal  pride.  He  adored  the  little  ones, 
his  only  anxiety  was  to  increase  their  fortune  by  administering, 
with  all  the  skill  of  a  faithful  steward,  the  money  which  Rose 
earned  at  the  theatre  and  elsewhere.  At  the  time  they  married, 
when  he  was  leader  of  the  band  at  the  music-hall  where  she  was 
engaged  to  sing,  they  loved  each  other  passionately.  Now  they 
remained  merely  good  friends.  It  was  all  arranged  between 
them.  She  worked  as  hard  as  she  could,  with  all  her  talent  and 
with  all  her  beauty;  he  had  given  up  his  violin  the  better  to  watch 
over  her  successes  as  an  actress  and  a  woman.  One  could  never 
have  found  a  more  comfortable  or  united  couple. 

How  old  is  the  eldest?"  asked  Vandeuvres. 

"Henri  is  nine  years  old,"  replied  Mignon.  "Oh!  but  he's  so 
strong!" 

Then  he  chaffed  Steiner,  who  did  not  care  for  children,  and 
told  him  with  quiet  audacity  that  if  he  were  a  father  he  would 
not  squander  his  fortune  so  stupidly.  Whilst  talking,  he  kept 
eyeing  the  banker  across  Blanche's  shoulders,  to  see  how  he  was 
getting  on  with  Nana.  But,  for  some  minutes  past,  Rose  and 
Fauchery,  who  had  been  speaking  very  close  to  each  other,  had 
made  him  rather  anxious.  He  hoped  Rose  was  not  going  to  waste 
her  time  with  such  stupidity.  If  she  were  he  would  make  it  his 
business  to  prevent  it.  And  with  his  well-shaped  hands,  which 
sported  a  diamond  ring  on  the  little  finger,  he  finished  cutting 
up  his  venison  steak.  The  conversation  about  children,  however, 
continued.  La  Faloise,  rendered  quite  bashful  by  Gaga's  proximity, 
began  to  ask  her  for  news  of  her  daughter,  whom  he  had  had  the 
pleasure  of  seeing  with  her  at  the  Variety  Theatre.  Lili  was  very 
well,  but  she  was  still  quite  a  tomboy!  He  was  quite  astounded 
when  he  heard  that  she  was  almost  nineteen  years  old.  Gaga 
at  once  became  in  his  eyes  far  more  imposing.  And  as  he  tried 
to  find  out  why  she  had  not  brought  Lili  with  her  — 

"Oh,  no!  never,  never!"  she  said,  highly  indignant.  "Only 
three  months  ago  she  insisted  on  leaving  school.  I  wished  to 
marry  her  at  once.  But  she  loves  me  so  much,  I  was  obliged  to 
have  her  with  me,  ah!  quite  against  my  wish,  I  assure  you." 

Her  blue  eyelids,  with  the  lashes  all  burnt  away,  blinked  as 
she  spoke  of  settling  the  young  lady  in  life.  If,  at  her  age,  she 
had  never  been  able  to  put  a  sou  on  one  side  —  always  working, 
obliging  the  men  still,  especially  very  young  ones,  whose  grand- 

C843 


NANA 

mother  she  might  have  been  —  it  was  really  because  a  good 
marriage  was  worth  far  more.  She  leaned  towards  La  Faloise, 
who  turned  quite  red  beneath  the  enormous  naked  and  plastered 
shoulder  with  which  she  almost  crushed  him. 

"You  know,"  she  murmured,  "if  she  makes  a  mistake,  it  won't 
be  my  fault.  But  girls  are  so  peculiar  when  they  are  young!" 

There  was  a  good  deal  of  commotion  going  on  round  the  table. 
The  waiters  hurried  about.  The  next  course,  consisting  of  fattened 
pullets,  fillets  of  sole  and  stewed  liver,  made  its  appearance.  The 
head- waiter,  who,  in  the  way  of  wine,  had  up  till  then  only  offered 
Meursault,  now  sent  round  some  Chambertin  and  some  Leoville. 
In  the  slight  hubbub  occasioned  by  the  changing  of  the  plates, 
George,  more  surprised  than  ever,  asked  Daguenet  if  all  the  ladies 
had  children;  and  he,  amused  by  the  questions,  gave  him  a  few 
particulars. 

Lucy  Stewart  was  the  daughter  of  a  porter  of  English  origin 
employed  on  the  Northern  Railway;  she  was  thirty-nine  years  old, 
with  the  head  of  a  horse,  but  nevertheless  a  most  adorable  person, 
frightfully  consumptive  yet  never  dying — the  greatest  swell  of  all 
the  women  there,  and  who  could  count  amongst  her  conquests 
three  princes  and  a  duke.  Caroline  Hequet,  who  was  born  at 
Bordeaux,  was  the  daughter  of  a  clerk  in  humble  circumstances, 
who  died  of  shame.  She  had  the  good  luck  to  possess  a  mother 
who  was  a  strong-minded  woman,  and  who,  after  cursing  her  and 
indulging  in  a  year's  reflection,  suddenly  restored  her  to  her  place 
in  the  maternal  affections,  with  the  object  of  watching  over  her 
fortunes.  The  daughter,  who  was  twenty-five  years  old,  and  of 
a  very  cold  nature,  enjoyed  the  reputation  of  being  one  of  the 
prettiest  women  in  the  market,  at  the  price  that  never  varied.  The 
mother,  a  very  orderly  woman,  kept  the  books  with  the  utmost 
accuracy  as  to  profit  and  loss,  and  managed  the  entire  establish- 
ment from  the  small  apartment  she  occupied  two  floors  above, 
and  where  she  had  set  up  a  dressmaking  business  for  the  produc- 
tion of  her  daughter's  elegant  costumes  and  underclothing.  As 
for  Blanche  de  Sivry,  whose  real  name  was  Jacqueline  Baudu, 
she  came  from  a  village  near  Amiens.  She  was  magnificently 
shaped  but  was  very  stupid  and  a  great  liar,  pretending  her 
grandfather  was  a  general  and  not  owning  to  her  thirty-two 
years.  She  was  very  much  in  vogue  with  the  Russians,  on 
account  of  her  corpulence. 

£853 


NANA 

Then  Daguenet  rapidly  added  a  few  details  about  the  others. 
Clarisse  Besnus  was  brought  from  Saint-Aubin-sur-Mer  to  Paris 
by  a  lady  as  nursery-maid,  and  was  debauched  by  the  husband, 
who  started  her  in  her  new  career.  Simone  Cabiroche,  the  daugh- 
ter of  a  furniture  dealer  of  the  Faubourg  Saint-Antoine,  was 
educated  at  a  high-class  school  with  the  object  of  becoming  a 
governess;  and  Maria  Blond,  and  Louise  Violaine,  and  Lea  de 
Horn,  had  all  been  driven  on  to  the  streets,  without  counting  Tatan 
Nene,  who  had  tended  cattle  until  twenty  years  old,  in  the  beggarly 
Champagne.  George  listened,  watching  the  women  as  he  did  so, 
and  feeling  quite  dazed  and  excited  by  such  a  cynical  undressing 
coarsely  muttered  into  his  ear;  whilst,  behind  him,  the  waiters 
kept  repeating  in  a  respectful  tone  of  voice,  "  Fattened  pullet  — 
fillet  of  sole." 

"My  boy,"  said  Daguenet,  giving  him  the  benefit  of  his  ex- 
perience, "don't  take  any  fish,  it's  not  advisable  to  do  so  so  late 
at  night  as  this;  and  stick  to  the  Leoville,  it  is  less  treacherous." 

The  atmosphere  was  becoming  quite  impregnated  with  the  heat 
from  the  candles  and  the  fumes  of  the  dishes  and  of  everything 
else  on  the  table,  around  which  thirty-eight  persons  were  almost 
suffocating;  and  the  waiters,  becoming  careless,  were  scurrying 
about  over  the  carpet,  which  was  already  grease-stained  in  several 
places.  The  supper,  however,  still  continued  a  rather  quiet  affair. 
The  ladies  trifled  with  their  food,  leaving  half  of  it  on  their  plates. 
Tatan  Nene  alone  ate  greedily  of  everything.  At  that  late  hour 
of  the  night  there  were  nothing  but  nervous  appetites,  the  caprices 
of  disordered  stomachs.  Seated  beside  Nana  the  old  gentleman 
declined  all  the  dishes  offered  him.  He  had  merely  taken  a  spoon- 
ful of  soup ;  and  he  silently  looked  about  him  in  front  of  his  empty 
plate.  There  was  a  good  deal  of  discreet  yawning.  Now  and  again 
some  of  the  guests  quite  closed  their  eyes,  whilst  the  faces  of  others 
became  really  cadaverous-looking.  It  was  most  awfully  slow,  as 
Vandeuvres  said.  Suppers  of  that  sort,  to  be  amusing,  should  not 
be  too  select.  Otherwise,  if  all  were  on  their  good  behaviour,  and 
everything  was  highly  respectable,  one  might  just  as  well  go  and 
feed  in  good  society,  where  one  could  not  be  more  bored.  If  it 
hadn't  been  for  Bordenave,  who  continued  his  shouting,  every  one 
would  have  gone  to  sleep.  The  lazy  beast,  his  leg  carefully  stretched 
out,  put  on  the  airs  of  a  sultan,  as  he  allowed  his  neighbours,  Lucy 
and  Rose,  to  wait  on  him.  They  did  nothing  but  look  after  him 

£863 


NANA 

and  pamper  him,  and  see  that  his  glass  and  his  plate  were  con- 
stantly filled;  but  all  that  did  not  prevent  him  complaining. 

"Who  will  cut  up  my  meat  for  me?  I  can't  do  it  myself,  the 
table  is  a  mile  away." 

Every  moment  Simone  continued  going  and  standing  behind 
him,  and  cutting  up  his  meat  and  his  bread.  All  the  women  in- 
terested themselves  in  what  he  had  to  eat.  They  called  back  the 
waiters  and  had  his  plate  filled  again  and  again.  Then  Simone 
having  wiped  his  mouth,  whilst  Rose  and  Lucy  changed  his  plate 
and  knife  and  fork,  he  thought  it  all  very  nice;  and,  deigning  at 
last  to  show  his  pleasure,  he  said,  "There!  You  are  right,  my  girl. 
A  woman  is  made  for  nothing  else." 

Every  one  began  to  wake  up  a  bit,  and  the  conversation  became 
more  general.  Some  orange  sherbet  had  just  been  served  round. 
The  hot  roast  was  a  trufHed  fillet  of  beef,  and  the  cold  roast  a 
galantine  of  guinea-fowl  with  jelly.  Nana,  who  was  quite  put  out 
by  the  want  of  animation  among  her  guests,  now  commenced  to 
talk  very  loud. 

"You  know  that  the  Prince  of  Scotland  has  already  had  a 
stage-box  booked  for  him  to  see  the  *  Blonde  Venus,'  when  he 
comes  for  the  Exhibition." 

"I  hope  all  the  princes  will  come  and  see  it,"  said  Bordenave, 
with  his  mouth  full. 

"The  Shah  of  Persia  is  expected  on  Sunday,"  observed  Lucy 
Stewart. 

Then  Rose  Mignon  talked  of  the  Shah's  diamonds.  He  wore 
a  tunic  which  was  quite  covered  with  precious  stones,  it  was  a 
marvel,  a  blazing  star,  and  was  worth  millions;  and  all  the  ladies, 
with  pale  faces  and  eyes  glaring  with  covetousness,  stretched  their 
necks  as  they  mentioned  the  other  kings  and  emperors  who  were 
expected.  They  were  all  thinking  of  some  caprice  of  royalty,  of 
a  fortune  made  in  a  night. 

"I  say,  my  dear,"  asked  Caroline  Hequet,  leaning  towards 
Vandeuvres,  "how  old  is  the  Emperor  of  Russia?" 

"Oh!  he's  no  age,"  replied  the  count,  laughing.  "You've  no 
chance  in  that  quarter,  I  assure  you." 

Nana  pretended  to  be  very  much  offended.  The  conversation 
was  becoming  too  coarse,  many  protested  by  a  murmur;  but 
Blanche  started  giving  some  information  about  the  King  of  Italy, 
whom  she  had  seen  once  at  Milan.  He  was  not  very  handsome, 

C873 


NANA 

but  that  did  not  prevent  him  from  being  very  successful  with  the 
women;  and  she  seemed  quite  disappointed  when  Fauchery 
stated  that  Victor-Emmanuel  would  not  be  able  to  come.  Louise 
Violaine  and  Lea  preferred  the  Emperor  of  Austria.  All  of  a  sud- 
den little  Maria  Blond  was  heard  to  say,  "What  a  dry  old  stick 
the  King  of  Prussia  is!  I  was  at  Baden  last  year.  I  was  constantly 
meeting  him  with  Count  Bismarck." 

"Ah!  Bismarck,"  interrupted  Simonne.  "I  used  to  know  him. 
He  is  a  charming  fellow." 

"That's  just  what  I  was  saying  yesterday,"  exclaimed  Van- 
deuvres,  "and  no  one  would  believe  me." 

And  just  the  same  as  at  Countess  Sabine's,  they  talked  for  a 
long  while  about  Count  Bismarck.  Vandeuvres  repeated  the  same 
phrases  he  had  used  before.  For  a  moment  one  seemed  to  be 
again  in  the  Muffats'  drawing-room;  the  women,  only,  were 
changed.  In  just  the  same  way,  too,  the  conversation  turned  on 
music.  Then,  Foucarmont  having  dropped  a  word  about  the 
taking  of  the  veil  which  all  Paris  was  talking  of,  Nana  became 
interested  and  insisted  on  hearing  all  about  Mademoiselle  de 
Fougeray.  Oh!  poor  little  thing,  to  go  and  bury  herself  alive  in 
that  way !  However,  it  was  her  own  wish !  The  women  round  the 
table  were  all  deeply  affected.  George,  tired  of  hearing  the  same 
things  over  again,  was  questioning  Daguenet  respecting  Nana's 
private  habits,  when  the  conversation  fatally  returned  to  Count 
Bismarck.  Tatan  Nene,  leaning  towards  Labordette  and  whis- 
pering in  his  ear,  asked  him  who  was  that  Bismarck,  whom  she 
had  never  heard  of.  Then,  Labordette  coolly  told  her  some  of 
the  most  awful  lies  imaginable:  Bismarck  fed  on  raw  meat; 
whenever  he  encountered  a  woman  near  his  stronghold,  he  carried 
her  off  on  his  back;  though  only  forty  years  old,  he  had  already 
had  thirty-two  children. 

"Only  forty  years  old,  and  thirty-two  children!"  exclaimed 
Tantan  Nene,  quite  astounded,  but  convinced.  "He  must  be 
awfully  worn  out  for  his  age."  Then  as  every  one  burst  into  a 
laugh,  she  saw  it  was  at  her,  so  she  hastened  to  add:  "How  stupid 
you  are!  How  am  I  to  know  when  you  are  only  joking?" 

Gaga,  however,  had  continued  talking  of  the  Exhibition.  Like 
all  the  other  ladies,  she  was  rejoicing  and  making  her  preparations. 
It  would  be  a  good  season,  with  all  the  provincials  and  the  foreign- 
ers rushing  to  Paris.  Then,  perhaps,  after  the  Exhibition,  if 

C883 


NANA 

everything  went  well,  she  could  retire  to  Juvisy,  to  a  little  house 
she  had  had  her  eye  upon  for  a  long  time. 

"What  would  you?"  said  she  to  La  Faloise,  "one  never  has  any 
prospects.  If  one  were  only  loved!" 

Gaga  was  going  in  for  a  little  tenderness,  because  she  had  felt 
the  young  man's  knee  touch  her  own.  He  was  very  red  in  the 
face.  She,  lisping  all  the  while,  weighed  him  with  a  glance.  A 
little  gentleman,  not  very  wealthy;  but,  then,  she  was  no  longer 
hard  to  please.  La  Faloise  obtained  her  address. 

"Look,"  murmured  Vandeuvres  to  Clarisse,  "I  fancy  that  Gaga 
is  robbing  you  of  your  Hector." 

"Oh!  I  don't  care  a  fig!"  replied  the  actress.  "The  fellow's 
a  fool.  I  have  already  turned  him  out  of  my  place  three  times. 
But,  you  know,  when  youngsters  go  in  for  the  old  ones,  it  dis- 
gusts me." 

She  interrupted  herself  to  draw  his  attention,  with  a  slight  nod, 
to  Blanche,  who,  ever  since  the  early  part  of  the  supper,  had  been 
leaning  in  a  very  uncomfortable  position,  looking  very  proud,  but 
wishing  to  display  her  shoulders  to  the  distinguished  old  gentle- 
man, who  was  seated  only  three  places  from  her. 

"You  are  being  abandoned  also,  my  boy."  resumed  Clarisse. 

Vandeuvres  smiled  shrewdly,  with  a  gesture  of  indifference.  He, 
certainly,  wouldn't  stand  in  the  way  of  poor  Blanche  making  a 
conquest.  He  was  far  more  interested  in  the  exhibition  Steiner 
was  making  of  himself.  The  banker  was  well  known  for  his  numer- 
ous love  affairs.  The  terrible  German  Jew,  the  great  hatcher  of 
businesses  whose  hands  founded  millions,  became  quite  a  fool 
whenever  he  had  a  hankering  after  a  woman;  and  he  wanted  them 
all.  One  could  never  appear  at  a  theatre  but  he  secured  her,  no 
matter  at  what  price.  The  most  incredible  amounts  were  men- 
tioned. Twice  during  his  life  had  his  furious  appetite  for  the  fair 
sex  ruined  him.  As  Vandeuvres  said,  the  women  avenged 
morality  in  emptying  his  coffers.  A  grand  transaction  in  shares 
of  the  saltworks  of  the  Landes  having  restored  him  his  position 
on  the  Bourse,  the  Mignons,  for  six  weeks  past,  had  been  having 
a  rare  nibble  at  the  profits.  But  now  bets  were  freely  made  that 
it  wouldn't  be  the  Mignons  who  would  finish  them,  for  Nana  was 
showing  her  white  teeth.  Once  again  Steiner  was  hooked,  and  so 
securely  that,  seated  beside  Nana,  he  looked  quite  dumbfounded, 
eating  without  the  least  appetite,  his  under  lip  hanging  down,  and 


NANA 

his  face  a  mass  of  blotches.  She  had  only  to  fix  a  sum.  Yet  she 
did  not  hurry  herself,  but  played  with  him,  blowing  little  laughs 
into  his  hairy  ear,  and  amusing  herself  with  the  sight  of  the  spasms 
which  now  and  again  passed  over  his  fat  face.  It  would  be  quite 
time  enough  to  land  him,  if  really  that  uncivil  beast  Count  Muffat 
was  going  to  play  at  being  Joseph. 

"Leoville  or  Chambertin?  "  murmured  a  waiter,  thrusting  his 
head  in  between  Nana  and  Steiner,  just  as  the  latter  was  whisper- 
ing to  the  young  woman. 

"Eh!  what!"  he  stammered,  quite  bewildered.  "What  you 
like,  I  don't  care." 

Vandeuvres  nudged  Lucy  Stewart,  who  was  noted  for  saying 
unpleasant  things,  and  having  a  most  fiendish  temper  whenever 
put  out  about  anything;  and  Mignon's  behaviour  all  the  evening 
had  quite  exasperated  her. 

"You  know  he  would  even  go  and  hold  the  candle,"  said  she  to 
the  count.  "He  hopes  to  do  the  same  as  he  did  with  young  Jon- 
quier.  You  recollect  Jonquier,  who  was  with  Rose,  and  who  took 
a  fancy  to  tall  Laure.  Mignon  went  and  arranged  everything 
with  Laure  for  Jonquier,  and  then  he  brought  him  back,  arm-in- 
arm, to  Rose,  like  a  husband  who  had  been  allowed  to  go  on  a 
spree.  But  this  time  it  won't  do.  Nana  is  not  one  to  return  the 
men  who  are  lent  her." 

"  Whatever  is  Mignon  looking  at  his  wife  in  that  angry  way  for?  " 
asked  Vandeuvres. 

He  leant  forward  a  little,  and  noticed  that  Rose  was  getting 
very  sweet  on  Fauchery.  That  explained  to  him  why  his  neighbour 
had  spoken  in  such  a  spiteful  manner.  He  resumed  with  a  laugh, 
"The  devil!  are  you  jealous?" 

"Jealous!"  repeated  Lucy,  furious.  "Ah,  well!  if  Rose  wants 
Leon,  I  give  him  to  her  freely.  He  isn't  worth  much!  One  bou- 
quet a  week,  and  that  not  always!  Look  you,  my  boy,  all  those 
theatre-girls  are  the  same.  Rose  wept  with  rage  when  she  read 
Leon's  article  on  Nana,  I  know  it  for  certain.  So,  you  see,  she 
also  must  have  an  article,  and  she's  earning  it.  As  for  me,  I'll 
kick  Leon  out  of  my  place,  you  bet!"  She  stopped  to  tell  a  waiter 
standing  behind  her  with  his  two  bottles,  "Leoville,"  then,  lower- 
ing her  voice,  she  resumed,  "I'm  not  going  to  kick  up  a  fuss,  it's 
not  my  way;  but  she's  a  dirty  hussy  all  the  same.  If  I  were  her 
husband,  I'd  lead  her  a  fine  dance.  Oh!  this  won't  bring  her  any 


NANA 

luck.  She  doesn't  know  my  Fauchery,  a  dirty  fellow,  he  too,  who 
sticks  to  a  woman  simply  to  improve  his  position  in  the  world. 
They're  a  fine  lot!" 

Vandeuvres  tried  to  calm  her.  Bordenave,  abandoned  by  Rose 
and  by  Lucy,  was  fast  losing  his  temper,  and  kept  calling  out 
that  every  one  was  letting  papa  die  of  hunger  and  thirst.  This 
caused  a  happy  diversion.  The  supper  was  becoming  interminable; 
almost  every  one  had  left  off  eating,  but  the  champagne,  that 
many  of  the  guests  had  been  drinking  ever  since  the  soup,  was 
gradually  animating  them  with  a  nervous  intoxication.  They 
began  to  be  more  free  in  their  behaviour;  the  women  put  their 
elbows  on  the  table,  now  all  in  disorder,  the  men,  to  breathe  more 
at  ease,  leant  back  in  their  chairs,  and  the  black  coats  mingled  in 
still  closer  proximity  with  the  gay-coloured  dresses,  whilst  naked 
shoulders,  turned  sideways  to  the  light,  had  a  gloss  like  silk. 
It  was  a  great  deal  too  warm,  the  light  from  the  candles  became 
yellower  still,  and  the  atmosphere  was  loaded  with  the  fumes  ris- 
ing from  the  table.  Now  and  then,  when  a  head  bent  forward 
beneath  a  shower  of  curls,  the  flash  from  some  diamond  orna- 
ment illuminated  the  high  chignon.  The  increasing  merriment 
inflamed  all,  putting  laughter  into  the  eyes  and  displaying  pearl 
white  teeth  in  smiles,  whilst  the  reflection  of  the  candelabra 
caused  the  glasses  of  champagne  to  sparkle  again.  Broad  jokes 
were  uttered  aloud,  and  every  one  was  gesticulating  in  the  midst 
of  unanswered  questions  and  remarks  sent  from  one  end  of  the 
room  to  the  other.  But  the  waiters  made  the  most  noise  of  all, 
as  though  thinking  themselves  in  their  restaurant  —  pushing  up 
against  each  other  as  they  served  the  ices  and  dessert,  giving  vent 
to  guttural  exclamations  the  while. 

"My  children!"  shouted  Bordenave,  "don't  forget  that  we  have 
a  performance  to-morrow.  Take  care !  beware  of  the  champagne ! ' ' 

"Oh,"  said  Foucarmont,  "I  have  drunk  of  every  kind  of  wine 
made  in  the  world  —  some  of  the  most  extraordinary  liquids, 
alcohols  capable  of  killing  a  man  right  off.  Well!  they  never 
affected  me  in  the  least.  I  can't  get  drunk.  I've  tried,  but  I  can't." 

He  looked  very  pale  and  cool,  as  he  leant  back  in  his  chair  and 
continued  drinking. 

"All  the  same,"  murmured  Louise  Violaine,  "leave  off,  you've 
had  enough.  It  will  be  very  amusing  if  I  have  to  nurse  you  for 
the  rest  of  the  night." 


NANA 

A  slight  intoxication  coloured  Lucy  Stewart's  cheeks  with  a 
consumptive-looking  flush,  whilst  Rose  Mignon,  her  eyes  moist 
with  a  desire  to  cry,  had  become  quite  tender-hearted.  Tatan 
Nene,  dizzy  with  having  eaten  too  much,  laughed  vaguely  at  her 
own  stupidity.  The  others,  Blanche,  Caroline,  Simone,  Maria, 
were  all  talking  together,  telling  each  other  their  private  affairs  — 
a  dispute  with  a  coachman,  a  contemplated  trip  into  the  country, 
and  some  complicated  stories  of  lovers  stolen  and  returned;  but 
a  young  man  near  George,  having  tried  to  kiss  Lea  de  Horn, 
received  a  slap  with  an,  "I  say,  you!  just  leave  me  alone!'*  full 
of  the  most  virtuous  indignation;  and  George,  who  was  very 
drunk  and  excited  by  the  sight  of  Nana,  hesitated  before  putting — 
into  execution  an  idea  he  had  been  nursing,  which  was  to  crawl 
under  the  table,  and  curl  himself  up  at  her  feet  like  a  little  dog. 
No  one  would  have  seen  him,  and  he  would  have  kept  very  quiet. 
Then,  Daguenet  having,  at  Lea's  desire,  told  the  young  man  to 
behave  himself,  George,  all  of  a  sudden,  felt  quite  sad,  as  though 
he  had  just  been  scolded  himself;  it  was  stupid,  it  was  dull,  there 
was  nothing  left  worth  living  for.  Daguenet,  however,  joked  with 
him,  and  made  him  drink  a  tumblerful  of  water,  asking  him  at 
the  same  time  what  he  would  do  if  he  found  himself  alone  with  a 
woman,  as  three  glasses  of  champagne  were  too  much  for  him. 

" For  instance,"  resumed  Foucarmont,  "in  Havana  they  make 
a  spirit  out  of  some  wild  berry ;  it's  just  like  swallowing  fire.  Well ! 
one  night  I  drank  nearly  two  pints  of  it,  and  it  had  no  effect  on 
me  whatever.  But  I  can  tell  you  more  than  that;  another  time, 
when  on  the  coast  of  Coromandel,  some  savages  brought  us  a 
mixture  that  tasted  like  pepper  and  vitriol,  and  it  had  no  effect 
on  me.  I  can't  get  drunk." 

For  some  little  time  past  he  had  taken  an  aversion  to  La  Faloise 
who  was  sitting  in  front  of  him.  He  kept  sneering  and  saying  most 
unpleasant  things.  La  Faloise,  who  was  becoming  rather  light- 
headed, moved  about  a  good  deal,  keeping  at  the  same  time  as 
close  as  possible  to  Gaga.  But  a  great  anxiety  increased  his  rest- 
lessness —  some  one  had  taken  his  handkerchief;  he  kept  asking 
for  it  in  a  drunken  obstinate  mood,  questioning  his  neighbours, 
and  stooping  down  to  look  under  their  chairs  and  amongst  their 
feet.  Then,  as  Gaga  tried  to  quiet  him:  "It's  absurd,"  he  mur- 
mured, "there  are  my  initials  and  my  crest  in  the  corner.  It  may 
compromise  me." 


NANA 

"I  say,  M.  Falamoise,  Lamafoise,  Mafaloise!"  cried  Foucar- 
mont,  who  thought  it  very  witty  to  thus  disfigure  the  young  man's 
name. 

But  La  Faloise  got  angry.  He  stutteringly  spoke  of  his  ancestors. 
He  threatened  to  pitch  a  decanter  at  Foucarmont's  head.  Count 
de  Vandeuvres  had  to  interfere  and  assure  him  that  Foucarmont 
was  very  funny.  Indeed,  every  one  laughed.  That  upset  the 
bewildered  young  man's  determination,  so  he  quietly  sat  down; 
and  he  went  on  eating  as  obediently  as  a  child,  when  his  cousin 
told  him  to  do  so  in  an  angry  tone  of  voice.  Gaga  kept  him  close 
to  her  again;  only,  every  now  and  then,  he  glanced  furtively  and 
anxiously  at  the  others,  in  search  of  his  handkerchief.  Then, 
Foucarmont,  in  his  witty  mood,  attacked  Labordette,  right  across 
the  table.  Louise  Violaine  tried  to  make  him  keep  quiet,  because, 
said  she,  whenever  he  got  quarrelsome  like  that  with  others,  it 
always  ended  badly  for  her.  He  thought  it  very  funny  to  call 
Labordette  "madame;"  it  seemed  to  amuse  him  immensely,  for 
he  kept  on  doing  so,  whilst  Labordette  coolly  shrugged  his  shoulders, 
saying  each  time,  "Keep  quiet,  my  boy;  don't  be  a  fool." 

But  as  Foucarmont  continued,  and  even  became  insulting,  with- 
out any  one  knowing  why,  Labordette  left  off  answering  him,  and 
addressed  himself  to  the  Count  de  Vandeuvres.  "Have  the  good- 
ness to  make  your  friend  keep  quiet,  sir.  I  do  not  wish  to  lose 
my  temper." 

He  had  fought  in  two  duels  —  he  was  admitted  and  welcomed 
everywhere;  so  there  was  a  general  rising  against  Foucarmont. 
Every  one  was  amused,  thinking  him  very  funny;  but  that  was 
no  reason  for  upsetting  the  harmony  of  the  evening.  Vandeuvres, 
whose  fine  face  wore  a  dark  look,  insisted  on  his  restoring  Labor- 
dette his  sex.  The  other  men,  Mignon,  Steiner,  Bordenave,  all 
very  far  gone,  interfered  also,  shouting  so  as  to  drown  his  voice; 
and  the  old  gentleman,  who  was  quite  forgotten  in  his  seat  beside 
Nana,  alone  preserved  his  distinguished  look,  his  quiet,  weary 
smile,  as  he  watched  with  his  pale  eyes  the  tumult  around  him. 

"My  little  duck,  suppose  we  have  our  coffee  here."  said  Borde- 
nave. "We  are  all  very  comfortable." 

Nana  did  not  answer  at  once.  Ever  since  the  commencement 
of  the  supper,  she  had  not  seemed  to  be  in  her  own  home.  She 
felt  quite  lost  among  all  these  people,  who  almost  stunned  her  with 
their  loud  talk  and  their  calls  for  the  waiters,  and  who  were  all 


NANA 

thoroughly  at  their  ease,  as  though  in  a  restaurant.  She,  too, 
began  to  forget  her  duties  as  mistress  of  the  house,  occupying  her- 
self solely  with  stout  old  Steiner,  who  was  almost  bursting  with 
apoplexy  beside  her.  She  listened  to  him,  shaking  her  head  the 
while,  and  laughing  in  the  provoking  way  of  a  plump  blonde.  The 
champagne  she  had  drunk  had  heightened  her  colour  and  mois- 
tened her  lips,  and  given  an  extra  sparkle  to  her  eyes;  and  the 
banker  offered  more  at  every  cajoling  movement  of  her  shoulders, 
at  each  slight  though  voluptuous  heaving  of  her  neck  when  she 
turned  her  head.  He  noticed,  near  her  ear,  a  dainty  little  spot, 
a  velvety  skin  which  almost  drove  him  mad.  Now  and  then  Nana 
recollected  her  guests,  and  tried  to  do  the  amiable,  to  show  that 
she  knew  how  to  entertain.  Towards  the  end  of  the  supper  she 
became  quite  tipsy.  That  vexed  her  very  much.  Champagne 
always  got  into  her  head  at  once.  Then  an  idea  seized  upon  her 
that  thoroughly  exasperated  her.  It  was  a  dirty  trick  the  other 
women  were  playing  her,  by  behaving  badly  in  her  rooms.  Oh! 
she  saw  through  it  well  enough !  Lucy  winked  her  eye  to  stimulate 
Foucarmont  against  Labordette;  whilst  Rose,  Caroline,  and  the 
others  excited  the  gentlemen.  Now,  the  row  they  kicked  up  was 
so  great  that  it  was  impossible  to  hear  oneself  speak  —  just  to 
show  that  they  could  all  do  as  they  liked  when  supping  at  Nana's. 
Well!  they  would  see.  Though  she  was  tipsy,  she  was  still  the  best 
looking  and  the  best  behaved  of  the  lot. 

"My  little  duck,"  repeated  Bordenave,  "tell  them  to  serve  the 
coffee  in  here.  I  should  prefer  it,  on  account  of  my  leg." 

But  Nana  roughly  jumped  up  from  her  seat,  murmuring  to 
Steiner  and  the  old  gentleman,  who  were  lost  in  astonishment, 
"  It  serves  me  right;  it  will  teach  me  not  to  invite  such  a  low  set 
another  time."  Then,  pointing  to  the  dining-room  door,  she  added 
aloud,  "You  know,  if  you  want  any  coffee,  there's  some  in 
there." 

Every  one  rose  from  the  table,  and  hurried  towards  the  dining- 
room,  without  noticing  Nana's  anger.  And  soon  no  one  was 
left  in  the  drawing-room  but  Bordenave,  who  was  holding  on  to 
the  walls  and  advancing  cautiously,  swearing  all  the  time  against 
those  confounded  women,  who  didn't  care  a  damn  for  papa,  now 
that  their  bellies  were  full.  Behind  him,  the  waiters  were  already 
removing  the  cloth,  under  the  directions  of  their  chief,  who  shouted 
out  his  orders.  They  hurried  themselves,  shoving  up  against  one 


NANA 

another,  making  the  table  disappear  like  the  scenery  of  a  fairy 
play  on  the  signal  of  the  head  scene-shifter.  The  ladies  and  gentle- 
men were  to  return  to  the  drawing-room  after  taking  their  coffee. 

"Thank  goodness!  it  isn't  so  warm  in  here,"  said  Gaga,  with  a 
slight  shiver,  as  she  entered  the  dining-room. 

The  window  had  been  left  open.  Two  lamps  lighted  up  the 
table,  on  which  the  coffee  was  served  with  some  liqueurs.  There 
were  no  chairs,  so  they  all  took  their  coffee  standing;  whilst  the 
noise  caused  by  the  waiters  in  the  next  room  increased.  Nana  had 
disappeared;  but  no  one  was  troubled  about  her  absence.  They 
got  on  very  well  without  her,  helping  themselves,  searching  in  the 
sideboard  drawers  for  the  spoons  they  wanted.  Several  groups 
were  formed  —  those  who  had  been  separated  during  the  supper 
rejoining  one  another,  and  exchanging  looks,  significant  smiles, 
or  a  few  words  which  summed  up  the  situation. 

"I  say,  Augustus,"  said  Rose  Mignon,  "ought  not  M.  Fauchery 
to  come  and  lunch  with  us  one  of  these  days?" 

Mignon,  who  was  playing  with  his  watch  chain,  looked  at  the 
journalist  severely  for  a  second.  Rose,  he  thought,  was  mad.  As 
a  good  manager,  he  would  put  a  stop  to  all  such  waste.  For  an 
article,  well  and  good;  but  after  that  no  admittance.  However, 
as  he  knew  that  his  wife  would  sometimes  have  her  own  way,  and 
that  he  made  a  rule  of  paternally  allowing  her  to  commit  a  folly 
whenever  he  could  not  prevent  it,  he  replied  in  his  most  amiable 
manner,  "Certainly,  I  shall  be  delighted.  Why  not  come  to- 
morrow, then,  M.  Fauchery?" 

Lucy  Stewart,  who  was  conversing  with  Steiner  and  Blanche, 
overheard  the  invitation.  She  raised  her  voice,  and  said  to  the 
banker,  "  Is  it  a  mania  they've  all  got?  One  of  them  has  even 
stolen  my  puppy.  Really,  now,  is  it  my  fault  if  you've  discarded 
her?  " 

Rose  turned  her  head.  Her  face  was  very  pale  as  she  looked 
fixedly  at  Steiner,  slowly  sipping  her  coffee  the  while,  and  all  the 
repressed  anger  she  felt  at  her  abandonment  gleamed  in  her  eyes 
like  a  flame  of  fire.  She  understood  the  matter  better  than  Mignon. 
It  was  absurd  to  try  and  repeat  the  Jonquier  experiment.  That 
sort  of  things  did  not  come  off  twice.  Well,  so  much  the  worse! 
she  would  have  Fauchery.  She  had  felt  a  hankering  for  him  ever 
since  the  supper,  and  if  Mignon  didn't  like  it,  it  would  teach  him 
to  act  differently  another  time. 


NANA 

"You  are  not  going  to  fight,  I  hope?"  Vandeuvres  came  and 
said  to  Lucy  Stewart. 

"Oh,  no!  never  you  fear.  Only  she  had  better  keep  quiet,  or 
I'll  give  her  a  piece  of  my  mind";  and,  calling  to  Fauchery  in  a 
haughty  tone  of  voice,  Lucy  added,  "Young  'un,  I've  got 
your  slippers  at  home.  I'll  have  'em  left  to-morrow  with  your 
concierge." 

He  tried  to  jest  about  it,  but  she  moved  away  from  him  with 
the  air  of  a  queen.  Clarisse,  who  was  leaning  against  the  wall 
so  as  the  more  conveniently  to  drink  a  glass  of  kirsch,  shrugged 
her  shoulders.  What  a  fuss  to  make  about  a  man!  Wasn't  it  the 
custom,  whenever  two  women  found  themselves  together  with 
their  lovers,  for  each  to  try  and  get  hold  of  the  other's?  It  was 
quite  a  settled  thing.  If  she  had  chosen,  she  might  have  scratched 
out  Gaga's  eyes,  all  on  account  of  Hector.  But,  pooh !  she  didn't 
care  a  button.  Then,  as  La  Faloise  passed  near  her  she  contented 
herself  with  saying  to  him,  "Listen!  you  seem  to  like  them  very 
far  advanced.  You  are  not  satisfied  with  their  being  ripe,  you 
want  them  rotten!" 

La  Faloise  appeared  very  much  put  out.  He  continued  uneasy. 
Seeing  Clarisse  scoffing  at  him  he  suspected  her.  "No  humbug," 
he  murmured,  "you  have  taken  my  handkerchief.  Give  me  my 
handkerchief." 

"What  a  nuisance  he  is  with  his  handkerchief!"  she  cried. 
"Look  here,  you  idiot;  what  should  I  have  taken  it  for?" 

"Why,"  said  he,  mistrustfully,  "to  send  it  to  my  relations,  so 
as  to  compromise  me." 

All  this  while  Foucarmont  was  going  in  strongly  for  the  liqueurs. 
He  continued  to  sneer  as  he  watched  Labordette,  who  was  drink- 
ing his  coffee  surrounded  by  the  women,  and  he  kept  uttering  a 
number  of  unconnected  phrases,  much  in  this  style:  "The  son  of 
a  horse-dealer,  others  said  the  bastard  offspring  of  a  countess  - 
no  means,  and  yet  always  twenty-five  louis  in  his  pocket  —  the 
servant  of  all  the  girls  of  easy  virtue  —  a  fellow  who  never  went 
to  bed." 

"No,  never!  never!"  he  repeated,  growing  angry.  "I  can't 
help  it;  I  must  really  slap  his  face." 

He  tossed  off  a  glass  of  chartreuse.  Chartreuse  never  upset  him; 
not  that  much,  said  he,  and  he  clacked  his  thumb-nail  between  his 
teeth.  But  all  of  a  sudden,  just  as  he  was  advancing  towards 

£963 


NANA 

Labordette,  he  turned  ghastly  pale,  and  fell  all  in  a  heap  in  front  of 
the  sideboard.  He  was  dead  drunk.  Louise  Violaine  was  in  an 
awful  way.  She  had  said  that  it  would  end  badly;  now  she  would 
be  the  rest  of  the  night  nursing  him.  But  Gaga  reassured  her.  She 
examined  the  officer  with  the  eye  of  an  experienced  woman,  and 
declared  that  there  was  no  cause  for  alarm.  The  gentleman  would 
sleep  like  that  for  twelve  or  fifteen  hours  without  the  least  accident; 
so  they  removed  Foucarmont. 

"Hallo!  wherever  has  Nana  got  to?"  asked  Vandeuvres. 

Yes,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  she  had  disappeared  on  leaving  the 
supper  table.  They  now  began  to  think  of  her;  every  one  made 
inquiries.  Steiner  suddenly  became  most  anxious,  questioned 
Vandeuvres  with  respect  to  the  old  gentleman,  who  had  also  dis- 
appeared; but  the  count  calmed  his  fears.  He  had  just  seen  the 
old  gentleman  off.  He  was  a  distinguished  foreigner,  whose  name 
it  was  unnecessary  to  mention.  He  was  very  rich,  and  was  satisfied 
with  paying  for  the  suppers.  Then,  every  one  again  forgetting 
Nana,  Vandeuvres  noticed  Daguenet's  head  at  the  door,  signalling 
to  him  to  come;  and  in  the  bedroom,  he  found  the  mistress  of  the 
house  seated  quite  rigid,  with  her  lips  all  white,  whilst  Daguenet 
and  George  were  standing  watching  her  with  looks  of  conster- 
nation. 

"What's  the  matter  with  you?"  he  asked,  surprised. 

She  did  not  reply,  nor  did  she  even  turn  her  head.  He  repeated 
his  question. 

"I  don't  intend  to  be  made  a  fool  of  in  my  own  place!"  she  at 
length  exclaimed.  "That's  what's  the  matter." 

Then  she  uttered  everything  that  came  readily  to  her  tongue. 
Yes,  yes,  she  wasn't  an  idiot;  she  could  see  what  it  all  meant. 
They  had  all  made  a  fool  of  her  during  supper.  They  had  said 
the  most  beastly  things,  just  to  show  that  they  didn't  care  a  curse 
for  her.  A  parcel  of  strumpets,  who  were  not  fit  to  clean  her 
boots.  She  wouldn't  worry  herself  for  them  another  time,  just 
to  be  treated  in  that  scurvy  way  afterwards!  She  didn't  know 
what  it  was  kept  her  from  kicking  the  whole  dirty  lot  out  of  the 
place;  and,  her  rage  choking  her,  she  sobbed  aloud. 

"Come,  my  girl,  you're  drunk,"  said  Vandeuvres  in  a  most 
affectionate  manner.  "You  must  be  reasonable." 

No,  she  refused  beforehand;  she  would  remain  there.  "I  may 
be  drunk,  it's  very  possible;  but  I  intend  to  be  respected." 

C973 


NANA 

For  a  quarter  of  an  hour  past,  Daguenet  and  George  had  been 
vainly  entreating  her  to  return  to  the  dining-room;  but  she  was 
obstinate.  Her  guests  might  do  what  they  liked;  she  had  too  great 
a  contempt  for  them  to  return  amongst  them.  Never,  never! 
They  might  cut  her  up  into  pieces,  but  she  would  remain  in  her 
room. 

"  I  ought  to  have  expected  it,"  she  resumed.  "  It's  that  strum- 
pet Rose  who  organised  the  plot;  and  it's  no  doubt  she  who  pre- 
vented that  respectable  lady  I  invited  from  coming." 

She  was  speaking  of  Madame  Robert.  Vandeuvres  assured  her, 
on  his  word  of  honour,  that  Madame  Robert  had  of  her  own  free 
will  declined  the  invitation.  He  listened  and  discussed  without 
laughing,  used  to  such  scenes,  and  knowing  how  to  deal  with  women 
when  they  were  in  that  state;  but  the  moment  he  tried  to  take 
hold  of  Nana's  hands,  to  raise  her  from  her  chair  and  lead  her 
away,  she  struggled  with  increased  fury.  No  one  would  ever 
make  her  believe,  for  instance,  that  Fauchery  had  not  dissuaded 
Count  Muffat  from  coming.  He  was  a  regular  serpent,  that 
Fauchery,  a  most  envious  fellow,  a  man  who  was  capable  of  stick- 
ing to  a  woman  until  he  had  destroyed  her  happiness;  for  she 
knew  very  well  the  count  had  taken  a  fancy  to  her.  She  might 
have  had  him. 

"He,  my  dear  —  never!"  exclaimed  Vandeuvres,  forgetting  him- 
self and  laughing. 

"But  why  not?"  asked  she,  serious,  and  slightly  sobered. 

"  Because  he's  mixed  up  with  the  priests,  and  if  he  only  touched 
you  with  the  tip  of  his  finger,  he  would  go  and  confess  it  on  the 
morrow.  Now  listen  to  a  good  piece  of  advice.  Don't  let  the  other 
one  escape." 

For  a  moment  she  reflected  in  silence.  Then  she  rose,  and 
went  and  bathed  her  eyes.  Yet,  when  they  again  tried  to  get  her 
into  the  dining-room,  she  furiously  declined  to  go.  Vandeuvres 
left  the  room  with  a  smile,  without  insisting  any  more;  and  directly 
he  was  gone,  she  had  a  fit  of  tenderness,  throwing  herself  into 
Daguenet's  arms,  and  saying, 

"Ah!  my  Mimi,  there  is  no  one  like  you.  I  love  you,  as  you 
know!  I  love  you  so  much!  It  would  be  too  good  if  we  could 
always  live  together.  Oh !  why  are  women  such  unhappy  creatures? 

Then  noticing  George,  who  had  turned  very  red  on  seeing  them 
embrace  each  other,  she  kissed  him  also.  Mimi  could  not  be  jealous 

C983 


NANA 

of  a  baby.  She  wished  Paul  and  George  always  to  get  on  well 
together,  because  it  would  be  so  nice  to  remain  like  that,  all  three 
knowing  that  they  loved  one  another  so  much.  But  a  peculiar 
noise  disturbed  them.  Some  one  was  snoring  in  the  room.  Then, 
looking  about,  they  discovered  Bordenave,  who,  after  drinking 
his  coffee,  had  apparently  made  himself  comfortable  there.  He 
was  asleep  on  two  chairs,  his  head  resting  on  the  edge  of  the 
bed,  and  his  leg  stretched  straight  out.  Nana  thought  he  looked 
so  comic,  with  his  mouth  wide  open  and  his  nose  moving  at  each 
snore,  that  she  quite  shook  with  laughter.  She  left  the  room, 
followed  by  Daguenet  and  George,  and,  passing  through  the  din- 
ing-room, entered  the  drawing-room,  laughing  more  than  ever. 

"Oh,  my  dear!"  cried  she,  almost  throwing  herself  into  Rose's 
arms,  "you  have  no  idea  —  come  and  see." 

All  the  women  were  obliged  to  go  with  her.  She  caressingly 
seized  hold  of  their  hands,  and  dragged  them  away,  in  so  genuine 
a  transport  of  gaiety,  that  they  laughed  before  knowing  why. 
They  all  disappeared,  and  then  returned  after  having  remained 
for  a  minute,  with  bated  breath,  around  Bordenave,  majestically 
stretched  out.  And  then  their  laughter  burst  forth  afresh,  when 
one  of  them  called  for  silence,  Bordenave  could  be  plainly  heard 
snoring  in  the  distance. 

It  was  nearly  four  o'clock.  In  the  dining-room  a  card-table  had 
been  placed,  around  which  Vandeuvres,  Steiner,  Mignon,  and 
Labordette  hastened  to  seat  themselves.  Lucy  and  Caroline 
stood  behind  them  betting;  whilst  Blanche,  feeling  very  drowsy 
and  dissatisfied  with  her  evening,  kept  asking  Vandeuvres  every 
five  minutes  if  they  would  not  soon  be  going.  In  the  drawing- 
room  others  were  trying  to  dance.  Daguenet  was  kindly  assist- 
ing at  the  piano,  as  Nana  said  she  wouldn't  have  any  strumming, 
and  Mimi  could  play  as  many  waltzes  and  polkas  as  any  one  could 
wish.  But  the  dancing  flagged;  many  of  the  women  were  re- 
clining on  the  sofas,  chatting  among  themselves.  All  on  a  sudden 
there  was  a  frightful  uproar.  Eleven  young  men,  who  had  just 
arrived  together,  were  laughing  very  loudly  in  the  anteroom,  and 
pushing  their  way  towards  the  drawing-room  door.  They  had 
just  left  the  ball  at  the  Ministry  of  the  Interior,  and  were  all  in 
evening  dress  and  bedecked  with  various  unknown  decorations. 
Nana,  annoyed  at  the  noise  they  made,  called  the  waiters,  who 
were  still  in  the  kitchen,  and  ordered  them  to  chuck  the  gentle- 

£993 


NANA 

men  out,  swearing  that  she  had  never  seen  them  before.  Fauchery, 
Labordette,  Daguenet,  and  the  other  men  hastened  forward  to 
insure  the  respect  due  to  the  lady  of  the  house.  Angry  words  were 
uttered,  fists  were  shaken.  Another  minute,  and  there  would  have 
been  a  general  punching  of  heads.  However,  a  little  fair-haired 
fellow,  with  a  most  sickly  appearance,  kept  on  repeating,  "Come 
now,  Nana;  the  other  night,  at  Peters's,  in  the  big  red  room.  You 
surely  must  recollect!  You  invited  us." 

The  other  night,  at  Peters's?  She  did  not  remember  it  at  all. 
First  of  all,  what  night?  And  when  the  little  fair-haired  fellow 
told  her  the  day,  Wednesday,  she  recollected  that  she  had  supped 
at  Peters's  on  the  Wednesday,  but  she  had  invited  no  one,  of  that 
she  was  almost  certain. 

"  But  yet,  my  girl,  if  you  did  invite  them,"  murmured  Labordette 
who  began  to  have  doubts  on  the  subject,  "you  were  perhaps  a 
little  bit  on." 

Then  Nana  laughed.  It  was  possible,  she  couldn't  say.  How- 
ever, as  the  gentlemen  were  there,  they  had  better  come  in.  And 
so  it  was  settled.  Many  of  the  new  comers  found  friends  of  theirs 
amongst  those  in  the  drawing-room,  and  the  squabble  ended  in  a 
general  hand-shaking.  The  little  fair-haired  fellow  with  the  sickly 
appearance  bore  one  of  the  greatest  names  of  France.  Besides, 
they  announced  that  several  others  were  following  them;  and, 
true  enough,  the  door  opened  every  minute  to  admit  men  with 
white  kid  gloves  and  in  their  most  official  get-up.  They  all  came 
from  the  ball  at  the  Ministry  of  the  Interior.  Fauchery  jokingly 
inquired  if  the  minister  himself  would  not  soon  arrive;  but  Nana, 
very  much  annoyed,  replied  that  the  minister  visited  people  who 
were  certainly  not  as  good  as  she.  What  she  did  not  mention  was 
a  hope  she  entertained  —  that  of  seeing  Count  Muffat  enter  in 
the  midst  of  all  the  others.  He  might  have  altered  his  mind;  and, 
as  she  conversed  with  Rose,  she  kept  watching  the  door. 

Five  o'clock  struck.  The  dancing  had  ceased.  The  players 
alone  stuck  to  their  cards.  Labordette  had  given  up  his  seat, 
and  the  women  had  gone  back  into  the  drawing-room.  The  som- 
nolence that  accompanies  a  prolonged  dissipation  hung  heavily 
over  all  in  the  dull  light  of  the  lamps,  the  charred  wicks  of  which 
gave  a  reddish  hue  to  the  globes.  The  women  had  reached  that 
maudlin  state  when  they  feel  the  desire  to  relate  their  own  histories. 
Blanche  de  Sivry  talked  of  her  grandfather  the  general,  whilst 


NANA 

Clarisse  invented  quite  a  romance  about  a  duke  who  had  seduced 
her  at  her  uncle's,  where  he  had  come  to  hunt  the  wild  boar;  and 
each,  with  her  back  turned,  kept  shrugging  her  shoulders,  and 
asking  if  it  was  possible  to  tell  such  crammers.  As  for  Lucy 
Stewart,  she  quietly  avowed  her  humble  origin,  and  talked  freely 
of  the  days  of  her  youth,  when  her  father,  the  porter  on  the  North- 
ern Railway,  used  to  treat  her  to  an  apple  turnover  on  a  Sunday. 

"Oh!  I  must  tell  you!"  suddenly  exclaimed  little  Maria  Blond. 
"There's  a  gentleman  living  opposite  to  me,  a  Russian,  in  short 
a  man  who's  awfully  rich.  Well,  yesterday  I  received  a  basket  of 
fruit  —  oh!  such  a  basket  of  fruit! — some  enormous  peaches, 
grapes  as  big  as  that,  something  really  extraordinary  at  this  time 
of  the  year.  And  in  the  middle  of  all,  six  bank  notes  of  a  thousand 
francs  each.  It  was  the  Russian.  Of  course  I  sent  all  back  again, 
but  I  was  rather  sorry  to  do  so,  because  of  the  fruit!" 

The  other  women  looked  at  each  other  trying  not  to  smile. 
Little  Maria  Blond  possessed  rare  cheek  for  her  age.  As  if  that 
sort  of  adventures  happened  to  such  hussies  as  she!  They  all 
felt  a  great  contempt  for  each  other.  Many  were  furiously  jealous 
of  Lucy  on  account  of  her  three  princes.  Ever  since  Lucy  had 
taken  to  riding  on  horseback  of  a  morning  in  the  Bois  de  Boulogne, 
which  had  been  the  starting-point  of  her  great  success,  they  had 
all  been  seized  with  a  violent  mania  for  learning  to  ride. 

The  day  was  about  to  break.  Nana  no  longer  watched  the  door, 
having  lost  all  hope.  Every  one  was  bored  to  death.  Rose  Mignon 
had  refused  to  sing  the  "Slipper,"  and  was  curled  up  on  the  sofa, 
where  she  was  whispering  with  Fauchery,  whilst  waiting  for  Mig- 
non, who  had  already  won  about  fifty  louis  from  Vandeuvres.  A 
stout,  distinguished-looking  gentleman,  wearing  a  decoration,  had, 
it  is  true,  just  recited  "Abraham's  Sacrifice,"  in  Alsatian  patois, 
spiced  with  a  certain  amount  of  profanity;  only,  as  no  one  under- 
stood more  than  a  word  or  two,  the  recitation  fell  very  flat. 

Nobody  knew  what  to  be  at  to  infuse  some  gaiety  into  the  pro- 
ceedings, to  finish  the  night  in  a  sufficiently  wild  manner.  For 
an  instant  Labordette  had  the  idea  of  secretly  denouncing  the 
women  to  La  Faloise,  who  kept  prowling  round  each  to  see  if  she 
hadn't  his  handkerchief  stowed  away  in  her  bosom.  However 
as  some  bottles  of  champagne  remained  on  the  side-board,  the 
young  men  started  drinking  again.  They  called  to  each  other, 
they  tried  to  excite  one  another;  but  an  invincibly  mournful  drunk- 


NANA 

enness,  of  a  stupidity  to  make  one  weep,  overcame  them  all.  Then 
the  little  fair-haired  fellow,  he  who  bore  one  of  the  greatest  names 
of  France,  quite  at  a  loss  what  to  do,  in  despair  at  not  being  able 
to  think  of  something  funny,  had  a  sudden  idea;  he  took  up  a 
bottle  of  champagne  and  emptied  the  contents  into  the  piano. 
All  the  others  writhed  with  laughter. 

"Hallo!"  said  Tatan  Nene  ,who  had  watched  him  with  astonish- 
ment, "why  does  he  pour  champagne  into  the  piano?" 

"What!  my  girl,  don't  you  know  that?"  replied  Labordette. 
seriously.  "There  is  nothing  so  good  as  champagne  for  pianos. 
It  improves  the  tone." 

"Ah!  really,"  murmured  Tatan  Nene,  thoroughly  convinced. 

And  as  every  one  laughed,  she  got  into  a  temper.  How  was 
she  to  know?  They  were  always  telling  her  wrong.  Things  were 
decidedly  going  from  bad  to  worse.  The  night  seemed  likely  to  end 
in  an  unpleasant  kind  of  manner.  In  a  corner  of  the  room,  Maria 
Blond  was  having  a  row  with  Lea  de  Horn,  whom  she  accused 
of  receiving  men  who  were  not  sufficiently  rich;  and  they  had  come 
to  oaths,  as  they  abused  each  other's  looks.  Lucy,  who  was  ugly, 
quieted  them.  Looks  were  nothing;  the  thing  was  to  have  a  good 
figure.  Farther  off,  on  a  sofa,  an  attache  to  an  embassy  had  passed 
his  arm  round  Simone's  waist,  and  was  trying  to  kiss  her  on  the 
neck;  but  Simone,  quite  tired  out,  and  very  sulky,  pushed  him 
away  each  time,  saying,  "Don't  bother  me!"  and  hitting  him  on 
the  head  with  her  fan.  Besides,  the  other  women  would  not  allow 
anybody  to  touch  them.  Who  did  they  take  them  for?  Gaga, 
however,  who  had  caught  hold  of  La  Faloise,  kept  him  by  her, 
almost  on  her  knees;  whilst  Clarisse,  shaking  with  the  nervous 
laugh  of  a  woman  being  tickled,  was  disappearing  between  two 
gentlemen.  Around  the  piano  the  little  game  continued,  in  a 
fit  of  stupidity.  There  was  a  good  deal  of  pushing;  each  one 
wanted  to  empty  his  bottle  into  it.  It  was  simple  and  pretty. 

"Here!  old  fellow,  take  a  drink.  The  devil!  isn't  he  thirsty, 
the  poor  piano!  Look  out  there!  here's  another;  we  mustn't  lose 
a  drop." 

Nana,  who  had  her  back  turned  towards  them,  did  not  see  what 
they  were  after.  She  had  evidently  made  up  her  mind  to  do  the 
best  she  could  with  stout  old  Steiner,  who  was  seated  beside  her. 
So  much  the  worse!  It  was  all  that  Muffat's  fault,  for  he  had  not 
been  willing.  In  her  dress  of  soft  white  silk,  light  and  crumpled 

£102  3 


NANA 

like  a  chemise,  with  her  touch  of  intoxication,  which  had  taken 
the  colour  from  her  face  and  made  her  eyes  look  heavy,  she  seemed 
to  be  offering  herself  in  a  quiet,  good-natured  sort  of  way.  The 
roses  she  had  placed  in  her  dress  and  hair  were  now  all  withered, 
and  only  the  stalks  remained.  Suddenly  Steiner  withdrew  his 
hand  from  off  her  dress,  where  he  had  just  encountered  the  pins 
placed  by  George.  A  few  drops  of  blood  issued  from  his  fingers. 
One  fell  on  the  dress  and  stained  it. 

"Now  it  is  signed,"  said  Nana  seriously. 

The  day  had  dawned.  An  awfully  sad  and  dubious  sort  of 
light  entered  by  the  windows.  Then  the  breaking-up  began  — 
a  leave-taking  full  of  uneasiness  and  ill-nature.  Caroline  Hequet, 
annoyed  at  having  wasted  her  night,  said  it  was  time  for  those 
to  go  who  did  not  wish  to  assist  at  some  very  strange  things. 
Rose  made  a  face  like  that  of  a  respectable  woman  who  had  been 
compromised.  It  was  always  the  same  with  those  hussies.  They 
never  knew  how  to  behave  themselves;  they  were  always  most 
disgusting  from  the  first.  And  Mignon  having  quite  stumped 
Vandeuvres,  the  couple  went  off,  without  troubling  themselves 
about  Steiner,  though  not  until  they  had  again  invited  Fauchery 
for  the  morrow.  Lucy,  then,  refused  to  let  the  journalist  see  her 
home,  and  told  him  out  loud  to  go  with  his  dirty  actress.  Rose, 
who  heard  her,  turned  round,  and  answered  with  "Filthy  hag!" 
muttered  between  her  teeth;  but  Mignon,  well  versed  in  women's 
quarrels,  paternally  pushed  his  wife  outside,  and  told  her  to  dry  up. 
Behind  them,  Lucy,  all  alone,  descended  the  staircase  like  a  queen. 
Then  it  was  La  Faloise,  feeling  quite  ill  and  sobbing  like  a  child, 
who  was  led  away  by  Gaga,  whilst  he  called  for  Clarisse,  long  ago 
gone  off  with  her  two  gentlemen.  Simone  also  had  disappeared. 
There  still  remained  Tatan,  Lea,  and  Maria;  but  Labordette 
obligingly  offered  to  take  charge  of  them. 

"  I  don't  feel  at  all  sleepy! "  said  Nana.    " Do  let  us  do  something. 

She  looked  at  the  sky  through  the  window  panes  —  a  sky  of  a 
livid  colour,  and  over  which  floated  sooty  black  clouds.  It  was 
six  o'clock.  Facing  her,  on  the  other  side  of  the  Boulevard  Hauss- 
man,  the  houses  were  still  hushed  in  sleep,  their  damp  roofs  stand- 
ing out  in  the  dim  light;  while  a  party  of  scavengers  were  passing 
along  the  deserted  pavement,  on  which  their  wooden  shoes  re- 
sounded. In  the  presence  of  this  mournful  awakening  of  a  gay 
city,  Nana  was  seized  with  the  emotion  of  a  young  girl,  with  an 

£103:1 


NANA 

intense  longing  for  the  country,  for  an  idyllic  existence,  for  some- 
thing pure  and  peaceful. 

"Oh!  I'll  tell  you  what,"  said  she,  going  up  to  Steiner,  "you 
must  take  me  to  the  Bois  de  Boulogne,  and  we  will  have  some 
milk." 

She  clapped  her  hands  with  a  childish  joy,  and  ran  to  throw  a 
pelisse  over  her  shoulders,  without  waiting  for  any  answer  from 
the  banker,  who  naturally  consented,  though  inwardly  annoyed, 
and  dreaming  of  something  very  different.  The  only  persons  left 
in  the  drawing-room  were  the  young  men  who  had  come  in  a  body; 
but,  having  drained  everything,  even  the  glasses,  into  the  piano, 
they  were  talking  of  leaving,  when  one  of  them  triumphantly 
appeared,  holding  in  his  hand  a  last  bottle,  which  he  had  discovered 
in  the  kitchen. 

"Wait!  wait!"  cried  he,  "a  bottle  of  chartreuse!  There  now, 
he  wanted  some  chartreuse,  that  will  bring  him  to  again.  And 
now,  boys,  let's  be  off.  We're  a  set  of  idiots." 

Nana  had  to  wake  up  Zoe,  who  had  fallen  asleep  on  a  chair  in 
the  dressing-room.  The  gas  was  still  burning.  Zoe  shivered  as 
she  helped  her  mistress  to  don  her  hat  and  pelisse. 

"Well,  it's  all  over;  I've  done  as  you  wished,"  said  Nana,  in  a 
most  familiar  manner,  relieved  at  having  at  length  made  up  her 
mind.  "You  were  right,  it  may  as  well  be  the  banker  as  another." 

The  maid  was  sullen  and  still  drowsy.  She  grunted  that  madame 
should  have  come  to  that  decision  on  the  first  night.  Then,  as 
she  followed  her  into  the  bedroom,  she  asked  what  she  was  to  do 
with  the  two  who  were  there.  Bordenave  had  not  left  off  snoring. 
George,  who  had  slyly  come  and  buried  his  head  in  a  pillow,  had 
ended  by  falling  asleep,  breathing  as  gently  as  a  cherub.  Nana 
told  the  girl  to  let  them  sleep.  But  all  her  tenderness  returned  on 
seeing  Daguenet  enter  the  room;  he  had  been  waiting  for  her  in 
the  kitchen  —  he  looked  very  sad. 

"Come  now,  my  Mimi,  be  reasonable,"  said  she,  taking  him  in 
her  arms,  and  hugging  him  with  all  manner  of  fondling  ways. 
"Nothing  is  altered,  you  know  it  is  my  Mimi  alone  whom  I  adore 
—  don't  you  now?  I  was  obliged  to  do  it.  I  swear  to  you,  we 
shall  be  all  the  happier.  Come  to-morrow,  we  will  settle  the  hours 
for  seeing  each  other.  Now,  quick,  kiss  me  as  much  as  you  love 
me  —  oh!  more,  more  than  that!" 

And,  tearing  herself  away  from  him,   she  rejoined  Steiner, 

C  104] 


NANA 

thoroughly  happy  and  full  of  her  fad  of  going  to  drink  some  new 
milk.  In  the  room,  now  almost  deserted,  Count  de  Vandeuvres 
remained  with  the  distinguished-looking  gentleman  who  had  recited 
"Abraham's  Sacrifice";  they  were  both  seated  at  the  card-table, 
no  longer  knowing  what  they  were  doing,  and  not  noticing  that 
it  was  broad  daylight;  whilst  Blanche  had  curled  herself  up  on 
the  sofa,  and  tried  to  sleep. 

"Ah!  Blanche  shall  go  too!*'  cried  Nana.  "We  are  going  to 
drink  some  milk,  my  dear.  Come  quick,  you  can  return  here  for 
Vandeuvres." 

Blanche  lazily  roused  herself.  This  time  the  banker's  bloated 
face  turned  pale  with  annoyance  at  the  idea  of  being  accompanied 
by  that  fat  girl,  who  would  be  in  his  way.  But  the  two  women  were 
already  leading  him  off,  and  repeating: 

"You  know,  we  must  see  the  cows  milked." 


CI053 


CHAPTER  V 

THE  "Blonde  Venus"  was  being  performed  for  the  thirty- 
fourth  time  at  the  Variety  Theatre.  The  first  act  had  just 
ended.  Simone,  got  up  as  a  washerwoman,  was  in  the 
green-room,  standing  before  a  mirror  placed  between  the  two  doors 
that  opened  on  to  the  passage  leading  to  the  dressing-rooms.  She 
was  all  alone,  and,  lighted  by  the  naked  flames  of  the  gas-jets  on 
either  side,  was  occupied  in  improving  her  make-up  by  passing  a 
finger  under  her  eyes. 

"Do  you  know  if  he's  arrived  yet?"  asked  PruIIiere,  who  entered 
in  his  costume  of  a  Swiss  admiral,  with  his  long  sword,  his  high 
boots,  and  his  immense  plume. 

"Whom  do  you  mean?"  said  Simone,  without  disturbing  her- 
self, and  laughing  at  the  glass  so  as  to  see  her  lips. 

"The  prince." 

"  I  don't  know,  I'm  going  down.  Ah!  so  he's  coming.  He  comes, 
then,  every  day!" 

PruIIiere  walked  up  to  the  fire-place,  which  faced  the  mirror, 
and  in  which  a  coke  fire  was  burning;  two  gas-jets  were  flaring 
away  on  either  side.  He  raised  his  eyes  and  looked  at  the  clock 
and  the  barometer,  placed  to  the  right  and  the  left,  and  accom- 
panied by  gilded  sphinxes  in  the  style  of  the  Empire.  Then  he 
buried  himself  in  a  vast  high-backed  arm-chair,  the  green  velvet 
of  which,  worn  and  soiled  by  four  generations  of  actors,  had  here 
and  there  turned  to  a  yellowish  hue,  and  he  remained  there  im- 
movable, his  eyes  vaguely  gazing  into  space,  in  the  weary  and 
resigned  attitude  of  actors  accustomed  to  the  "waits"  between 
their  cues.  Old  Bosc  had  just  made  his  appearance,  coughing  and 
shuffling  his  feet,  and  wrapped  in  an  old  yellow  box-coat,  which 
had  slipped  off  one  shoulder  and  displayed  King  Dagobert's 
laminated  golden  cassock.  For  an  instant,  after  having  placed 
his  crown  on  the  piano,  without  saying  a  word,  he  angrily  stamped 
his  feet,  looking  all  the  while,  however,  a  thoroughly  good-natured 
fellow,  with  his  hands  slightly  shaking  from  an  over-abuse  of 

£106:1 


NANA 

alcohol,  whilst  a  long  white  beard  gave  a  venerable  appearance 
to  his  inflamed  tippling-looking  face.  Then,  as  the  silence  was 
broken  by  a  shower  of  rain  and  hail  striking  against  the  panes  of 
the  large  square  window  which  looked  on  to  the  court-yard,  he 
made  a  gesture  of  disgust. 

"What  beastly  weather!"  he  grunted. 

Neither  Simone  nor  PruIIiere  moved.  On  the  walls  four  or 
five  pictures,  landscapes,  and  a  portrait  of  Vernet  the  actor,  were 
gradually  turning  yellow  through  the  heat  of  the  gas.  On  the 
shaft  of  a  column  a  bust  of  Potier,  one  of  the  old  glories  of  the 
Variety  Theatre,  looked  on  with  its  empty  eyes.  But  there  sud- 
denly arose  the  sounds  of  a  voice.  It  was  Fontan,  in  his  second 
act  dress,  that  of  a  stylish  young  man,  clothed  all  in  yellow,  and 
with  yellow  gloves  on  his  hands. 

"I  say!"  he  cried,  gesticulating,  "don't  you  know?  —  it's  my 
saint's-day  to-day." 

"Is  it  now,  really?"  asked  Simone,  going  up  to  him  with  a 
smile,  as  though  attracted  by  his  long  nose  and  his  big  comical 
mouth.  "Were  you,  then,  christened  Achilles?" 

"Exactly!  And  I'm  going  to  tell  Madame  Bron  to  bring  up 
some  champagne,  after  the  second  act." 

For  a  moment  past  a  bell  had  been  heard  tingling  in  the  distance. 
The  prolonged  sound  died  away  and  then  returned;  and,  when  the 
bell  finally  left  off  ringing,  a  cry  resounded  which  went  up  and  down 
the  staircase  and  was  lost  in  the  passages:  "The  overture's  on  for 
the  second  act!  The  overture's  on  for  the  second  act!"  This 
cry  at  length  approached  the  green-room,  and  a  pale  little  man 
passed  before  the  doors  shouting  at  the  top  of  his  shrill  voice: 
"The  overture's  on  for  the  second  act!" 

"The  deuce!  champagne!"  said  PruIIiere,  without  seeming  to 
have  noticed  the  row.  "You  are  going  it  fine." 

"Were  I  you,  I'd  have  it  sent  in  from  the  cafe,"  slowly  observed 
old  Bosc,  who  had  seated  himself  on  a  bench  covered  with  green 
velvet,  his  head  resting  against  the  wall. 

But  Simone  said  they  ought  not  to  forget  Madame  Bron's 
little  profit.  She  clapped  her  hands,  delighted,  devouring  Fontan 
with  her  eyes,  whilst  his  goat-like  face  kept  moving  with  a  con- 
tinual play  of  the  eyes,  nose,  and  mouth.  "Oh!  that  Fontan!" 
she  murmured;  "there  is  nobody  like  him,  there  is  nobody  like 
him!" 


NANA 

The  two  doors  were  wide  open,  showing  the  passage  leading  to 
the  dressing-rooms;  and  along  the  yellow  wall,  vividly  lighted  up 
by  an  unseen  gas-lamp,  shadows  were  rapidly  passing  of  men  in 
various  costumes,  women  half-naked,  wrapped  in  shawls,  all  the 
chorus  of  the  second  act,  with  the  masqueraders  of  the  "Boule 
Noire  ";  and  from  the  end  of  the  passage  one  could  hear  the  sound 
of  their  feet  stamping  on  the  five  wooden  steps  which  led  on  to 
the  stage.  As  tall  Clarisse  rapidly  passed  by,  Simone  called  to 
her;  but  she  answered  that  she  would  be  back  in  a  minute.  And, 
in  fact,  she  returned  shortly  afterwards,  shivering  in  the  thin  tunic 
and  sash  which  formed  Iris's  costume. 

"By  Jove!"  said  she,  "it  isn't  very  warm;  and  I've  been  and 
left  my  fur-cloak  in  my  dressing-room!"  Then,  standing  before 
the  fire,  warming  her  legs,  the  tights  covering  which  showed 
the  colour  of  the  flesh  beneath,  she  continued,  "The  prince  has 
arrived." 

"Ah!"  exclaimed  the  others  inquisitively. 

"Yes;  I  went  to  ascertain;  I  wanted  to  see.  He  is  in  the  first 
stage-box  on  the  right,  the  same  as  on  Thursday.  Well!  it's  the 
third  time  he's  been  in  a  week.  Isn't  she  lucky,  Nana?  I  had  bet 
that  he  wouldn't  come  again." 

Simone  opened  her  mouth,  but  her  words  were  drowned  by  a 
fresh  cry,  which  burst  out  close  to  the  green-room.  The  shrill 
voice  of  the  old  call-boy  shouted  along  the  passage,  "The  curtain 
is  going  up!" 

"Three  times!  Well,  it's  becoming  something  surprising,"  said 
Simone,  as  soon  as  she  could  be  heard.  "You  know,  he  won't 
go  to  her  place;  he  takes  her  to  his.  And  it  seems  it  costs  him  a 
pretty  penny." 

"Why,  of  course!  one  must  pay  for  one's  enjoyments!"  mali- 
ciously observed  PruIIiere,  rising  to  glance  into  the  glass  at  his 
well-formed  figure,  which  created  such  havoc  among  the  occu- 
pants of  the  boxes. 

"The  curtain's  rising!  the  curtain's  rising!"  repeated  the  old 
call-boy  in  the  distance,  as  he  hurried  along  the  different  passages. 

Then  Fontan,  who  knew  what  had  taken  place  the  first  time 
between  the  prince  and  Nana,  related  the  story  to  the  two  women 
who  were  squeezing  up  against  him,  and  laughed  very  loud  each 
time  he  stooped  to  give  them  certain  details.  Old  Bosc,  full  of 
indifference,  hadn't  moved.  Such  tales  as  that  didn't  interest  him. 


NANA 

He  was  stroking  a  big  tortoise-shell  cat  curled  up  asleep  on  the 
bench;  and  he  ended  by  taking  it  in  his  arms  with  the  tender 
simplicity  of  a  crazy  king.  The  cat  arched  its  back;  then,  after 
sniffing  a  considerable  while  at  his  long  white  beard,  disgusted, 
apparently,  by  the  smell  of  the  gum,  it  returned  to  the  bench, 
where,  curling  itself  up,  it  soon  fell  asleep.  Bosc  remained  solemn 
and  thoughtful. 

"All  the  same,  if  I  were  you,  I  would  'have  the  champagne 
from  the  cafe;  it  will  be  much  better,"  said  he  suddenly  to  Fontan, 
as  the  latter  finished  his  story. 

"The  curtain's  up!"  drawlingly  exclaimed  the  old  call-boy  in  a 
cracked  tone  of  voice.  "The  curtain's  up!  the  curtain's  up." 

The  cry  lasted  for  an  instant,  and  then  died  away.  There  was 
a  sound  of  scurrying  footsteps;  then  the  sudden  opening  of  the 
door  at  the  end  of  the  passage  admitted  a  blast  of  music,  a  distant 
hubbub,  and  the  door  closed  again  with  a  dull  thud.  Once  more  a 
heavy  quiet  reigned  in  the  green-room,  as  though  it  were  a  hundred 
miles  away  from  the  crowded  audience  that  was  applauding  vocif- 
erously. Simone  and  Clarisse  were  still  talking  of  Nana.  She 
never  hurried  herself!  —  only  the  night  before  she  missed  her 
entrance  cue.  But  they  stopped  speaking  as  a  tall  girl  thrust  her 
head  in  at  the  door,  then,  seeing  she  had  made  a  mistake,  hurried 
off  to  the  end  of  the  passage.  It  was  Satin,  wearing  a  bonnet  and 
veil,  and  looking  like  a  lady  out  visiting.  "A  pretty  piece  of 
goods!"  murmured  PruIIiere,  who  had  constantly  been  in  the  habit 
of  seeing  her  for  a  year  past  at  the  Cafe  des  Varietes.  And  Simone 
related  how  Nana,  having  come  across  Satin,  an  old  school-fel- 
low of  hers,  had  taken  a  great  fancy  to  her,  and  was  bothering 
Bordenave  to  bring  her  out. 

"Hallo!  good  evening,"  said  Fontan,  shaking  hands  with  Fau- 
chery  and  Mignon  who  just  then  entered. 

Even  old  Bosc  held  out  a  finger,  whilst  the  two  women  embraced 
Mignon. 

"Is  there  a  good  house  to-night?"  inquired  Fauchery. 

"Oh !  superb ! "  answered  PruIIiere.  "  You  should  see  how  they're 
all  taking  it  in!" 

"I  say,  my  children,"  remarked  Mignon,  "it's  time  for  you  to 
go  on,  isn't  it?" 

"Yes,  shortly."  They  did  not  appear  till  the  fourth  scene. 
Bosc  alone  rose,  with  the  instinct  of  an  old  veteran  of  the  boards 


NANA 

who  scents  his  cue  from  afar.  And  at  that  moment  the  old  call- 
boy  appeared  at  the  door.  "Monsieur  Bosc!  Mademoiselle 
Simone ! "  he  cried. 

Simone  quickly  threw  a  fur  cloak  over  her  shoulders,  and 
hastened  out.  Bosc,  without  hurrying  himself,  fetched  his  crown 
and  banged  it  on  his  head.  Then,  dragging  his  mantle  after  him, 
he  went  off,  unsteady  on  his  legs,  grunting,  and  with  the  annoyed 
look  of  a  man  who  has  been  disturbed. 

"You  said  some  very  kind  things  in  your  last  article,"  remarked 
Fontan  to  Fauchery.  "Only  why  did  you  state  that  comedians 
are  vain?" 

"Yes,  young  'un,  why  did  you  say  that?"  exclaimed  Mignon, 
bringing  his  enormous  hands  down  on  the  journalist's  slender 
shoulders  so  roughly  that  the  latter  sank  beneath  the  shock. 

PruIIiere  and  Clarisse  with  difficulty  refrained  from  laughing. 
For  some  time  past  the  members  of  the  company  had  been  highly 
amused  by  a  comedy  that  was  being  performed  behind  the  scenes. 
Mignon,  rendered  furious  by  his  wife's  infatuation,  disgusted  at 
seeing  that  Fauchery  never  contributed  towards  their  expenses 
anything  more  than  a  questionable  publicity,  had  conceived  the 
brilliant  idea  of  avenging  himself  by  overwhelming  the  journalist 
with  various  proofs  of  his  friendship.  Every  evening,  when  he 
met  him  behind  the  scenes,  he  quite  belaboured  him  with  blows,  as 
though  carried  away  by  an  excess  of  affection;  and  Fauchery, 
looking  most  puny  beside  this  colossus,  was  obliged  to  submit, 
smiling  the  while  in  a  constrained  manner,  so  as  not  to  quarrel 
with  Rose's  husband. 

"Ah!  my  fine  fellow,  so  you  insult  Fontan!"  resumed  Mignon, 
continuing  the  farce.  "Attention !  One,  two,  and  full  in  the  chest !" 

He  had  struck  out  and  hit  the  young  man  so  severe  a  blow  that 
the  latter  remained  for  an  instant  very  pale  and  quite  speechless. 
But,  with  a  wink  of  her  eye,  Clarisse  drew  the  others'  attention 
to  Rose  Mignon,  who  was  standing  in  the  doorway.  Rose  had 
seen  all  that  had  passed.  She  went  straight  up  to  the  journalist, 
as  though  unaware  of  her  husband's  presence,  and  standing  on 
tiptoe,  her  arms  bare,  and  in  her  baby  costume,  she  offered  her 
forehead  to  him  with  a  childish  pout. 

"Good  evening,  baby,"  said  Fauchery,  familiarly  kissing  her. 

That  was  his  reward.  Mignon  pretended  not  to  notice  the 
embrace;  every  one  kissed  his  wife  at  the  theatre.  But  he  laughed 

c  "0:1 


NANA 

as  he  cast  a  rapid  glance  at  the  journalist.  The  latter  would 
certainly  pay  dearly  for  Rose's  temerity.  The  door  of  the  passage 
opened  and  shut,  admitting  the  sound  of  tempestuous  applause 
into  the  green-room.  Simone  had  returned  after  going  through 
her  scene. 

"Oh!  old  Rose  made  such  a  hit!"  cried  she.  "The  prince  was 
wriggling  with  laughter,  and  he  applauded  just  like  the  others  as 
though  he  had  been  paid  to  do  so.  I  say,  do  you  know  the  tall 
gentleman  who  is  sitting  beside  the  prince,  in  the  stage-box?  A 
handsome  man,  looking  most  dignified,  and  he's  got  such  lovely 
whiskers." 

"  It's  Count  Muffat,"  replied  Fauchery.  "  I  know  that  the  day 
before  yesterday,  at  the  Empress's,  the  prince  invited  him  to 
dinner  for  this  evening.  He  probably  prevailed  upon  him  to  come 
here  afterwards." 

"Count  Muffat!  why  we  know  his  father-in-law,  don't  we, 
Augustus?"  asked  Rose  of  Mignon.  "You  know  the  Marquis  de 
Chouard,  at  whose  house  I  went  to  sing?  He  is  also  here  to-night. 
I  noticed  him  at  the  back  of  a  box.  He's  an  old  — " 

PruIIiere,  who  had  just  placed  the  hat  with  the  enormous  plume 
on  his  head,  turned  round  and  called  to  her,  "Hi!  Rose,  look 
sharp!" 

She  hurried  after  him,  without  finishing  her  sentence.  At  this 
moment  the  doorkeeper  of  the  theatre,  Madame  Bron,  passed  by, 
carrying  an  enormous  bouquet.  Simone  jokingly  asked  if  it  was 
for  her;  but  the  old  woman,  without  answering,  indicated  with 
her  chin  the  door  of  Nana's  dressing-room  at  the  end  of  the  passage. 
That  Nana!  how  they  covered  her  with  flowers.  Then,  as  she 
returned,  Madame  Bron  handed  a  letter  to  Clarisse,  who  muttered 
an  oath  beneath  her  breath.  Again  that  confounded  La  Faloise! 
there  was  a  fellow  who  wouldn't  leave  her  alone!  And  when  she 
heard  that  the  gentleman  was  waiting  in  the  doorkeeper's  room, 
she  exclaimed,  "Tell  him  I'll  come  down  when  the  act  is  over. 
I  mean  to  smack  his  face." 

Fontan  rushed  forward,  shouting,  "  Madame  Bron,  listen  — 
now  listen,  Madame  Bron.  After  the  act  bring  up  six  bottles  of 
champagne." 

But  the  old  call-boy  reappeared,  quite  out  of  breath,  repeating  in 
a  singsong  voice,  "Every  one  on  the  stage!  every  one  on  the  stage! 
Be  quick,  M.  Fontan!  Be  quick!  be  quick!" 

Cm  3 


NANA 

"Yes,  yes,  I'm  going,  old  Barillot,"  replied  Fontan,  quite  be- 
wildered; and,  running  after  Madame  Bron,  he  continued,  "Now 
you  understand?  Six  bottles  of  champagne,  in  the  green-room, 
after  the  act.  It's  my  saint's-day;  I'm  going  to  stand  treat." 

Simone  and  Clarisse  had  gone  off,  making  a  great  noise  with 
their  skirts.  When  they  had  all  left,  and  the  door  at  the  end  of 
the  passage  was  once  more  closed,  one  could  hear  in  the  silence  of 
the  green-room  the  sound  of  a  fresh  shower  striking  against  the 
window  panes.  Barillot,  a  little  pale  old  man,  who  had  been  call- 
boy  at  the  theatre  for  thirty  years  past,  went  familiarly  up  to 
Mignon  and  offered  him  his  snuff-box.  This  pinch  of  snuff  offered 
and  accepted  procured  him  a  minute's  rest  in  his  continual  running 
up  and  down  the  stairs  and  passages.  There  was  still,  to  be  sure, 
Madame  Nana,  as  he  called  her;  but  she  only  did  as  she  chose, 
and  never  cared  a  fig  for  the  fines.  When  she  chose  to  miss  her 
cue,  she  missed  it.  He  stopped  suddenly,  murmuring  in  astonish- 
ment: 

"Why!  here  she  is;  she's  actually  ready!  She  must  know  that 
the  prince  is  there." 

Nana  had,  indeed,  appeared  in  the  passage,  dressed  as  a  fisher- 
woman,  her  arms  and  face  all  white,  excepting  two  dabs  of  colour 
under  her  eyes.  She  did  not  enter  the  green-room,  but  simply 
nodded  to  Mignon  and  Fauchery. 

"Good-day,  how  are  you?" 

Mignon  alone  shook  the  hand  she  held  out;  and  Nana  con- 
tinued on  her  way  in  queenly  style,  followed  by  her  dresser,  who, 
as  she  trod  close  on  her  heels,  bent  down  to  give  a  finishing  touch 
to  the  folds  of  her  skirt.  Then,  behind  the  dresser,  bringing  up 
the  rear  of  the  procession,  came  Satin,  trying  to  look  very  lady- 
like, and  really  feeling  bored  to  death. 

"And  Steiner?"  suddenly  queried  Mignon. 

"Monsieur  Steiner  left  yesterday  for  the  Loiret,"  said  Barillot, 
who  was  returning  to  the  stage.  "  I  believe  he  is  going  to  purchase 
a  country  residence  there." 

"Ah!  yes,  I  know;  an  estate  for  Nana." 

Mignon  became  very  grave.  That  Steiner  had  once  promised 
Rose  a  mansion!  Well,  it  was  of  no  use  quarrelling  with  anybody; 
it  was  an  opportunity  which  he  had  lost,  and  which  he  must  regain. 
Full  of  thought,  but  still  quite  master  of  himself,  Mignon  walked 
up  and  down  from  the  fire-place  to  the  mirror.  There  were  only  he 


NANA 

and  Fauchery  left  in  the  green-room.  The  journalist,  feeling  tired, 
had  just  stretched  himself  out  in  the  easy-chair;  and  he  kept  very 
quiet,  his  eyes  half  closed,  beneath  the  glances  which  the  other 
gave  him  as  he  passed  to  and  fro.  When  they  were  alone,  Mignon 
disdained  to  pommel  him.  What  would  have  been  the  use?  as 
no  one  would  have  been  there  to  enjoy  the  fun.  He  cared  too 
little  about  the  matter  to  find  any  amusement  for  himself  in  play- 
ing the  bantering  husband.  Fauchery,  thankful  for  this  short 
respite,  was  languidly  stretching  his  legs  out  before  the  fire,  as 
his  eyes  wandered  from  the  barometer  to  the  clock.  Mignon 
interrupted  his  walk  for  a  moment,  and  stood  before  the  bust  of 
Potier,  which  he  looked  at  without  seeing.  Then  he  went  and 
placed  himself  at  the  window  opening  on  to  the  dark  court-yard 
beneath.  It  had  left  off  raining,  and  a  profound  silence  had  suc- 
ceeded, whilst  the  atmosphere  had  become  closer  through  the  heat 
of  the  coke  fire  and  the  flaring  of  the  gas-jets.  Not  a  sound  could 
be  heard  from  the  stage.  The  staircase  and  the  passages  were  as 
still  as  the  tomb.  It  was  the  hushed  peacefulness  occasioned  by 
the  end  of  an  act,  when  all  the  company  are  on  the  stage  joining  in 
the  deafening  uproar  of  some  finale,  whilst  the  empty  green-room 
is  under  the  influence  of  asphyxia. 

"Oh!  the  strumpets!"  suddenly  exclaimed  Bordenave,  in  a 
hoarse  voice. 

He  had  only  just  arrived,  and  he  was  already  bellowing  at  two 
of  his  chorus-girls,  who  had  almost  fallen  down  on  the  stage 
through  playing  the  fool.  When  he  saw  Mignon  and  Fauchery  he 
called  them  to  him  to  show  them  something:  the  prince  had  just 
requested  permission  to  compliment  Nana  in  her  dressing-room, 
between  the  acts.  But  as  he  was  taking  them  on  to  the  stage,  the 
stage-manager  passed. 

"Just  fine  those  hussies,  Fernande  and  Maria!"  shouted  Bor- 
denave, furiously.  Then  calming  himself,  and  trying  to  look 
dignified  like  a  father  and  a  nobleman,  after  passing  his  handker- 
chief over  his  face,  he  added,  "  I  will  go  and  receive  His  Highness." 

The  curtain  fell  amidst  thunders  of  applause.  Immediately  there 
was  a  regular  stampede  in  the  semi-obscurity  of  the  stage,  no 
longer  under  the  glare  of  the  foot-lights;  the  actors  and  the  supers 
were  hastening  to  reach  their  dressing-rooms,  whilst  the  car- 
penters were  rapidly  changing  the  scenery.  Simone  and  Clarisse, 
however,  remained  at  the  back  of  the  stage,  whispering  together. 


NANA 

During  the  last  scene,  between  two  of  their  lines,  they  had  just 
arranged  a  little  affair.  Clarisse,  after  thinking  the  matter  over, 
preferred  not  to  see  La  Faloise,  who  no  longer  wished  to  leave  her 
to  go  with  Gaga.  It  would  be  better  for  Simone  quietly  to  explain 
to  him  that  it  was  not  the  thing  to  stick  to  a  woman  to  that  extent. 
In  short,  she  was  to  send  him  about  his  business. 

Then  Simone,  dressed  as  a  washerwoman  in  a  comic  opera, 
with  her  fur  cape  thrown  over  her  shoulders,  descended  the  narrow 
winding  staircase,  with  its  greasy  stairs  and  its  damp  walls,  which 
led  to  the  doorkeeper's  room.  This  room,  situated  between  the 
actors'  and  manager's  staircases,  shut  in  on  the  right  and  the  left 
by  some  glass  partitioning,  was  like  a  huge  transparent  lantern, 
inside  which  two  gas-jets  were  flaring  high.  A  set  of  pigeon-holes 
was  crammed  full  of  letters  and  newspapers.  On  the  table  bou- 
quets of  flowers  were  lying  beside  forgotten  dirty  plates  and  an 
old  bodice,  the  button-holes  of  which  the  doorkeeper  was  occupied 
in  mending.  And,  in  the  midst  of  all  this  disorder,  similar  to  the 
confusion  of  a  lumber-room,  some  fashionable  gentlemen,  stylishly 
dressed  and  wearing  light  kid  gloves,  occupied  the  four  old  rush- 
bottomed  chairs,  with  patient  and  submissive  looks,  and  quickly 
turning  their  heads  each  time  Madame  Bron  returned  from  the 
interior  of  the  theatre  with  answers  for  them.  She  had  just  handed 
a  note  to  a  young  man,  who  hastened  to  open  it  beneath  the  gas- 
jet  in  the  hall,  and  who  turned  slightly  pale  as  his  eyes  encountered 
this  classic  phrase,  which  he  had  so  often  read  before  in  the  same 
place,  "Not  to-night,  ducky;  I'm  engaged."  La  Faloise  was  on 
one  of  the  chairs  at  the  end  of  the  room,  between  the  table  and 
stove.  He  seemed  ready  to  pass  the  evening  there,  looking  rather 
anxious  though,  and  keeping  his  long  legs  under  his  chair  because 
a  litter  of  little  black  kittens  were  gambolling  around  him,  whilst 
the  mother  sat  staring  at  him  with  her  yellow  eyes. 

"What!  you  here,  Mademoiselle  Simone?  Whatever  do  you 
want?"  asked  the  doorkeeper. 

Simone  wished  La  Faloise  to  be  sent  out  to  her;  but  Madame 
Bron  could  not  see  to  this  at  once.  In  a  sort  of  deep  cupboard, 
under  the  stairs,  she  kept  a  little  bar  where  the  supers  came  to 
drink  between  the  acts,  and  as  she  then  had  four  or  five  big  fellows 
there,  still  dressed  as  masqueraders  at  the  "Boule  Noire,"  all  of 
them  in  a  great  hurry  and  clamouring  for  drink,  she  was  a  little 
bit  flurried.  By  the  aid  of  the  gas  that  was  blazing  away  in  the 


NANA 

cupboard,  one  could  distinguish  a  table  covered  with  a  sheet  of 
tin,  and  several  shelves  stocked  with  partly  emptied  bottles. 
When  the  door  of  this  coal-hole  was  opened  there  issued  from  it  a 
violent  stench  of  alcohol,  which  mingled  with  the  smell  of  burnt 
fat  that  always  pervaded  the  room,  and  the  strong  perfume  of 
the  bouquets  left  on  the  table. 

"So,"  resumed  the  doorkeeper,  when  she  had  finished  serving 
the  supers,  "it's  the  little  dark  fellow  over  there  that  you  want  to 
speak  to?" 

"No,  don't  be  absurd!"  said  Simone.  "It's  the  thin  one  sitting 
beside  the  stove  —  the  one  your  cat's  snuffing  the  trousers  of." 

And  she  led  La  Faloise  into  the  hall,  whilst  the  other  gentlemen, 
though  half  suffocating,  appeared  as  resigned  as  ever,  and  the 
supers  stood  drinking  on  the  stairs,  indulging  among  themselves 
in  a  good  deal  of  noisy  drunken  horse-play.  Upstairs,  Bordenave 
was  yelling  at  the  scene-shifters,  who  were  still  engaged  in  chang- 
ing the  scenery.  They  were  such  a  time;  it  was  done  on  purpose; 
the  prince  would  receive  some  of  it  on  his  head. 

"Now  then!  shove  away  —  all  together!"  exclaimed  the  chief 
of  the  gang. 

At  length  the  drop  scene  at  the  back  was  raised,  and  the  stage 
was  free.  Mignon,  who  had  been  watching  for  Fauchery,  seized 
this  opportunity  of  continuing  his  delicate  attentions.  He  caught 
him  up  in  his  strong  arms,  crying  out,  "Take  care!  that  pole 
almost  fell  on  you." 

And  he  carried  him  off,  and  even  shook  him  before  placing  him 
on  the  ground  again.  Fauchery  turned  pale  as  the  workmen 
roared  with  laughter,  his  lips  quivered,  and  he  was  on  the  point 
of  giving  vent  to  his  passion,  whilst  Mignon  went  on  in  a  most 
good-natured  sort  of  way,  slapping  him  affectionately  on  the 
shoulder  almost  hard  enough  to  double  him  up,  and  saying  each 
time,  "You  know  I  am  very  anxious  about  your  health!  By 
Jove!  I  should  be  in  a  fine  way  if  any  accident  happened  to 
you!" 

But  a  whisper  passed  from  mouth  to  mouth,  "The  prince!  the 
prince!"  And  every  one  looked  towards  the  little  door  that  gave 
access  to  the  auditorium.  At  first  one  could  only  see  Bordenave's 
round  back  and  his  butcher's  neck,  as  he  puffed  and  blowed  and 
bent  himself  double  in  a  series  of  obsequious  bows.  Then  appeared 
the  prince,  tall  and  strong,  wearing  a  fair  beard,  his  complexion  of 


NANA 

a  deep  rose  colour,  and  looking  altogether  like  a  solid  man  about 
town,  whose  well-shaped  figure  was  discernible  beneath  an  irre- 
proachably fitting  overcoat.  He  was  followed  by  Count  MufFat 
and  the  Marquis  de  Chouard.  The  corner  of  the  theatre  where 
they  were  was  very  dark,  and  they  almost  disappeared  among  the 
big  ever-moving  shadows.  To  speak  to  this  son  of  a  queen,  the 
future  inheritor  of  a  throne,  Bordenave  had  adopted  the  tones  of 
a  lion-tamer's  voice  trembling  with  a  pretended  emotion.  He  kept 
saying: 

"If  your  Highness  will  kindly  follow  me  —  Will  Your  High- 
ness deign  to  pass  this  way?  Your  Highness,  please  to  take  care  — " 

The  prince  did  not  hurry  himself  in  the  least;  on  the  contrary, 
he  waited  and  watched  the  scene-shifters  with  a  good  deal  of 
interest.  A  float  had  just  been  lowered  from  the  flies,  and  the  row 
of  flaring  gas-jets,  encompassed  in  wire  net-work,  shed  a  brilliant 
light  upon  the  stage.  MufFat,  never  having  been  behind  the  scenes 
of  a  theatre  before,  was  especially  lost  in  astonishment,  and  was 
seized  with  an  unpleasant  sensation,  a  vague  repugnance  mixed 
with  fear.  He  looked  up  towards  the  flies,  where  other  floats,  the 
gas-lights  of  which  were  turned  down,  appeared  like  so  many  con- 
stellations of  little  blue  stars  in  all  the  chaos  of  the  light  wooden 
frame-work,  and  the  ropes  and  pulleys  of  different  sizes,  of  the 
hanging-stages,  and  the  back-drops  spread  out  aloft,  looking  like 
immense  cloths  hung  out  to  dry. 

"Let  go!"  suddenly  exclaimed  the  head  scene-shifter. 

And  the  prince  himself  was  obliged  to  warn  the  count.  One  of 
the  drop-scenes  was  being  lowered.  They  were  placing  the  scenery 
of  the  third  act  —  the  grotto  in  Mount  Etna.  Some  men  were 
fixing  poles  in  openings  made  for  the  purpose  in  the  flooring; 
others  fetched  the  frames,  which  were  leaning  against  the  walls, 
and  fastened  them  to  the  poles  with  strong  cords.  At  the  back  of 
the  stage  a  lamp-lighter  was  lighting  a  number  of  red  lamps,  to 
produce  the  reflection  of  Vulcan's  fiery  forge.  There  seemed  to  be 
great  confusion  and  hustling  about,  yet  the  least  movements  were 
regulated;  whilst,  amidst  all  this  hurry,  the  prompter  walked 
slowly  up  and  down  to  stretch  his  legs. 

"Your  Highness  overwhelms  me,"  Bordenave  was  saying,  still 
continuing  to  bow.  "The  theatre  is  not  large;  we  do  the  best 
we  can.  Now,  if  Your  Highness  will  deign  to  follow  me  — " 

Count  Muffat  had  already  moved  off  in  the  direction  of  the 


NANA 

passage  leading  to  the  dressing-rooms.  The  rather  sharp  incline 
of  the  stage  surprised  him,  and  his  uneasiness  was  to  a  great 
extent  caused  by  these  boards,  which  seemed  to  move  beneath 
his  feet.  Through  the  open  trap-doors  he  could  see  the  gas-lights 
burning  beneath.  It  was  quite  an  underground  world,  with  deep 
and  obscure  abysses,  from  which  arose  the  sound  of  men's  voices, 
and  the  musty  smell  peculiar  to  cellars.  But,  as  he  passed  along, 
a  slight  incident  detained  him.  Two  little  women,  dressed  for  the 
third  act,  were  conversing  together  before  the  peep-hole  of  the 
curtain.  One  of  them,  leaning  forward  and  widening  the  opening 
with  her  fingers,  so  as  to  see  better,  was  looking  round  the 
house. 

"I  see  him,"  she  suddenly  exclaimed.    "Oh!  what  a  mug!" 

Bordenave,  awfully  scandalized,  only  restrained  himself  with 
difficulty  from  kicking  her  behind;  but  the  prince  smiled,  look- 
ing delighted  and  excited  at  having  overheard  the  words,  whilst 
he  gazed  tenderly  on  the  little  woman,  who  didn't  care  a  fig  for 
His  Highness.  She  laughed  impudently.  However,  Bordenave  at 
length  induced  the  prince  to  follow  him.  Count  MufFat,  all  in  a 
perspiration,  removed  his  hat.  What  inconvenienced  him  most 
was  the  closeness  of  the  atmosphere,  which  had  become  over- 
heated and,  so  to  say,  thick,  and  in  which  hovered  a  very  strong 
smell  —  that  odour  of  behind  the  scenes,  stinking  of  gas,  the  glue 
of  the  scenery,  the  mouldy  dirt  in  out-of-the-way  corners,  and  the 
unwashed  bodies  of  the  female  supers.  In  the  passage  the  oppres- 
siveness increased.  The  stench  of  dirty  water,  the  perfume  of 
scented  soaps,  escaped  from  the  dressing-rooms,  mingled  now  and 
again  with  the  poisonous  exhalations  of  foul  breaths.  As  he  passed, 
the  count  rapidly  glanced  up  the  staircase,  struck  by  the  sudden 
flood  of  light  and  warmth  which  descended  upon  him.  From  above 
came  sounds  of  people  washing,  laughing,  and  calling  to  one 
another,  a  great  noise  of  opening  and  shutting  of  doors,  emitting 
feminine  odours,  the  musk  of  the  make-up  mixed  with  the  smell 
of  perspiring  heads  of  yellowy-red  hair.  He  did  not  linger,  but 
hastened  his  footsteps,  almost  flying  under  the  emotion  caused 
by  this  sudden  glimpse  of  a  world  hitherto  unknown  to  him. 

"Well,  a  theatre  is  a  curious  place,  is  it  not?"  observed  the 
Marquis  de  Chouard,  with  the  delighted  manner  of  a  man  finding 
himself  once  more  at  home. 

But  Bordenave  had  at  length  reached  Nana's  dressing-room  at 


NANA 

the  end  of  the  passage.    He  coolly  turned  the  door  handle ;  then, 
standing  aside,  said,  "  If  Your  Highness  will  please  to  enter." 

There  was  a  cry  of  a  woman  taken  by  surprise,  and  one  saw 
Nana,  naked  to  the  waist,  run  and  hide  herself  behind  a  curtain, 
whilst  her  dresser,  who  had  been  occupied  in  drying  her,  was  left 
standing  with  the  towel  in  her  hands. 

"Oh!  how  stupid  it  is  to  enter  a  room  like  that!"  exclaimed 
Nana  from  her  hiding-place.  "Don't  come  in;  you  see  very 
well  you  cannot  come  in!" 

Bordenave  seemed  put  out  by  this  bashfulness.  "Don't  run 
away,  my  dear;  there  is  not  the  slightest  necessity  for  doing 
so,"  said  he.  "His  Highness  is  here.  Come,  don't  be  a  child." 
And,  as  she  refused  to  appear,  being  slightly  startled  still,  though, 
nevertheless,  already  beginning  to  laugh,  he  added,  in  a  grumpy, 
paternal  tone  of  voice,  "Why,  bless  me!  these  gentlemen  know 
very  well  what  a  woman's  like.  They  won't  eat  you." 

"But  that  is  not  certain,"  gallantly  observed  the  prince. 

Every  one  laughed,  courtier-like,  in  a  most  exaggerated  manner. 
A  most  witty  remark,  thoroughly  Parisian,  according  to  Bordenave. 
Nana  no  longer  answered.  The  curtain  shook;  no  doubt  she  was 
making  up  her  mind  to  appear.  Then  Count  Muffat,  who  had 
become  very  red  in  the  face,  looked  about  him.  It  was  a  square 
room,  very  low  in  the  ceiling,  and  hung  throughout  with  some  light 
West  Indian  material.  A  curtain  of  the  same  stuff,  hanging  on  a 
brass  rod,  completely  shut  off  one  end  of  the  chamber.  Two  large 
windows  looked  out  on  to  the  courtyard  of  the  theatre,  at  a  dis- 
tance of  only  a  few  feet  from  a  leprous-looking  wall,  on  to  which, 
in  the  darkness  of  the  night,  the  panes  of  glass  reflected  a  series  of 
yellow  squares.  A  big  cheval-glass  stood  opposite  a  marble  dress- 
ing-table, which  was  covered  with  innumerable  glass  bottles  and 
pots  containing  hair  oils,  scents,  face  powders,  and  all  the  ingredi- 
ents necessary  for  making  up.  Approaching  the  mirror,  the  count 
caught  sight  of  his  own  red  face,  with  beads  of  perspiration  resting 
on  his  forehead.  He  lowered  his  eyes,  and  proceeded  to  place  him- 
self before  the  dressing-table,  on  which  a  basin  full  of  soapy  water, 
some  wet  sponges,  and  various  little  ivory  implements  scattered 
about  seemed  to  absorb  his  mind  for  a  while.  The  same  dizzy 
feeling  he  had  experienced  on  the  occasion  of  his  visit  to  Nana,  in 
the  Boulevard  Haussmann,  again  seized  hold  of  him.  He  seemed 
to  sink  deeper  into  the  thick  carpet  beneath  his  feet;  the  gas- 


NANA 

jets  burning  on  either  side  of  the  dressing-table  and  the  cheval- 
glass  were  like  the  hissing  flames  of  a  furnace  surrounding  his 
temples.  One  minute,  fearful  of  fainting  away  under  the  influence 
of  all  the  feminine  odour,  full  of  warmth,  and  rendered  ten  times 
more  pronounced  by  the  lowness  of  the  ceiling,  which  he  encountered 
for  the  second  time,  he  seated  himself  on  the  edge  of  the  well- 
padded  sofa  that  occupied  the  space  between  the  two  windows. 
But  he  rose  up  again  almost  immediately,  and  returned  to  the 
dressing-table,  no  longer  to  examine  anything,  but  with  a  vague 
expression  in  his  eyes,  and  thinking  of  a  bouquet  of  tuberoses 
which  had  been  allowed  to  fade  in  his  room  a  long  time  ago,  their 
powerful  smell  having  nearly  killed  him.  When  tuberoses  decay 
they  emit  a  kind  of  human  odour. 

"Do  be  quick!"  whispered  Bordenave,  passing  his  head  behind 
the  curtain. 

The  prince,  meanwhile,  was  complaisantly  listening  to  the 
Marquis  de  Chouard,  who,  having  taken  up  a  hare's  foot  from  the 
dressing-table,  was  explaining  how  actresses  put  on  the  powder 
with  it.  Satin,  sitting  in  a  corner,  with  her  virgin-like  face,  was 
staring  at  the  gentlemen;  whilst  the  dresser,  Madame  Jules,  was 
preparing  the  tunic  and  tights  composing  Venus's  costume. 
Madame  Jules  no  longer  had  an  age;  her  face  had  much  the  appear- 
ance of  parchment,  and  her  features  were  immovable,  like  those 
of  old  maids  whom  no  one  has  ever  known  to  have  been  young. 
She  had  dried  up  in  the  heated  atmosphere  of  the  dressing-rooms, 
in  the  midst  of  the  most  celebrated  legs  and  breasts  of  Paris.  She 
always  wore  a  faded  black  dress,  and  over  her  flat  and  sexless 
bosom  a  forest  of  pins  were  stuck  next  to  the  heart. 

"You  must  excuse  me,  gentlemen,"  said  Nana,  drawing  aside 
the  curtain.  "  I  was  taken  by  surprise." 

Every  one  turned  towards  her.  She  had  not  dressed  herself  at 
all,  but  had  merely  buttoned  up  a  little  cambric  chemisette,  which 
only  half  hid  her  bosom.  When  the  gentlemen  surprised  her,  she 
had  but  partly  undressed  herself,  having  rapidly  doffed  her  fisher- 
woman's  costume,  and  the  end  of  her  chemise  could  be  seen  pro- 
truding through  the  opening  in  her  drawers.  With  bare  arms  and 
shoulders  and  firm  projecting  breasts,  in  her  adorable  freshness  of 
a  plump  young  blonde,  she  continued  to  hold  the  curtain  with 
one  hand,  as  though  ready  to  draw  it  again  should  the  least  thing 
occur  to  scare  her. 

CM93 


NANA 

"Yes,  I  was  taken  by  surprise.  I  shall  never  dare  — "  stammered 
she,  pretending  to  be  very  much  confused,  blushing  down  to  her 
neck,  and  smiling  in  an  embarrassed  sort  of  way. 

"Oh!  nonsense!"  exclaimed  Bordenave;  "you  look  very  well 
as  you  are!" 

She  risked  a  few  more  of  her  hesitating,  ingenuous  ways,  quiver- 
ing the  while  as  though  she  was  being  tickled,  and  repeating, 
"His  Highness  honours  me  too  much.  I  beg  His  Highness  to 
excuse  me  for  receiving  him  in  such  a  condition  - 

"It  is  I,  madame,  who  am  obtrusive,"  said  the  prince;  "but  I 
could  not  resist  the  desire  of  coming  to  compliment  you." 

Then,  in  order  to  get  to  her  dressing-table,  she  quietly  walked 
in  her  drawers  through  the  midst  of  the  gentlemen,  who  all  made 
way  for  her.  Around  her  substantial  hips  her  drawers  looked  like 
a  balloon,  as,  with  chest  expanded,  she  continued  to  greet  her 
visitors  with  her  sly  smile.  Suddenly  she  appeared  to  recognise 
Count  Muffat,  and  she  shook  hands  with  him  as  a  friend.  Then 
she  scolded  him  for  not  having  come  to  her  supper.  His  Highness 
deigned  to  chaff  Muffat,  who  stuttered  out  an  explanation,  trem- 
bling at  the  idea  of  having  held  in  his  hot  hand  for  a  second  those 
tiny  ringers,  that  were  as  cool  as  the  water  they  had  just  been 
washed  in.  The  count  had  dined  well  at  the  prince's,  who  was  a 
great  eater  and  a  splendid  drinker.  They  were  both,  in  fact, 
slightly  tipsy,  although  they  did  not  show  it.  To  hide  his  confusion 
Muffat  was  only  able  to  make  a  remark  about  the  heat. 

"How  very  warm  it  is  in  here,"  said  he.  "However  do  you 
manage  to  exist  in  such  a  temperature,  madame?" 

And  the  conversation  was  about  to  start  from  that,  when  the 
sound  of  loud  voices  was  heard  at  the  door.  Bordenave  slid  aside 
a  little  board  that  closed  a  convent-like  peep-hole.  It  was  Fontan, 
who  was  accompanied  by  PruIIiere  and  Bosc,  all  three  carrying 
bottles  of  champagne  under  their  arms,  and  with  their  hands  full 
of  glasses.  He  knocked,  he  shouted  that  it  was  his  saint's-day 
and  that  he  was  standing  champagne.  Nana,  with  a  look,  con- 
sulted the  prince.  Why,  of  course!  His  Highness  did  not  wish 
to  be  in  anyone's  way,  he  would  be  only  too  delighted!  But 
without  waiting  for  the  permission,  Fontan  entered  the  room, 
saying: 

"I'm  not  ill-bred;   I  stand  champagne  — " 

But  he  suddenly  caught  sight  of  the  prince,  whom  he  did  not 


NANA 

know  was  there.    He  stopped  short,  and  putting  on  a  ludicrously 
solemn  look,  he  said: 

"  King  Dagobert  is  outside,  and  requests  the  honour  of  drink- 
ing with  Your  Royal  Highness." 

The  prince  having  smiled,  everyone  thought  it  very  witty.  The 
dressing-room,  however,  was  too  small  for  all  these  people.  They 
were  obliged  to  huddle  up  together,  Satin  and  Madame  Jules  at 
the  end  of  the  room,  against  the  curtain,  and  the  gentlemen  close 
to  each  other  around  Nana,  who  was  half-naked.  The  three 
actors  were  still  in  their  second  act  costumes.  While  PruIIiere 
took  off  his  Swiss  admiral's  hat,  the  immense  plume  of  which  would 
have  touched  the  ceiling,  Bosc,  in  his  purple  cassock  and  his  tin 
crown,  steadied  himself  on  his  drunken  legs,  and  greeted  the  prince 
like  a  monarch  receiving  the  son  of  a  powerful  neighbour.  The 
wine  was  poured  out  and  they  clinked  glasses. 

"I  drink  to  Your  Highness!"  said  old  Bosc,  right  royally. 

"To  the  army!"  added  PruIIiere. 

"To  Venus!"  shouted  Fontan. 

The  prince  complaisantly  balanced  his  glass  in  his  hand.  He 
waited,  and  then  bowed  thrice,  murmuring,  "Madame  —  admiral 
—  sire." 

And  he  swallowed  the  wine  at  a  draught.  Count  Muffat  and 
the  Marquis  de  Chouard  had  done  the  same.  There  was  no 
more  jesting  now,  they  were  all  at  court.  This  theatrical  world 
was  making  them  forget  the  real  one,  with  a  serious  farce  per- 
formed beneath  the  hot  glare  of  the  gas.  Nana,  forgetting  that 
she  was  in  her  drawers  and  displaying  the  tail  of  her  chemise, 
acted  the  grand  lady,  Queen  Venus,  opening  her  private  apart- 
ments to  the  great  personages  of  the  state.  To  every  sentence 
she  uttered  she  added  the  words  "royal  highness,"  which  she 
accompanied  with  curtsies,  and  she  treated  those  masqueraders, 
Bosc  and  PruIIiere,  in  the  style  of  a  queen  accompanied  by  her 
prime  minister.  And  no  one  smiled  at  the  strange  mixture,  of  a  real 
prince,  heir  to  a  throne,  who  was  drinking  a  stroller's  champagne, 
quite  at  his  ease  in  this  carnival  of  the  gods,  in  this  masquerade  of 
royalty,  in  the  midst  of  a  crowd  composed  of  dressers  and  strum- 
pets, players  and  exhibitors  of  women.  Bordenave,  carried  away 
by  the  scene,  was  thinking  of  the  money  he  would  make  if  His 
Highness  would  only  consent  to  appear  like  that  in  the  second  act 
of  the  "Blonde  Venus." 


NANA 

"I  say!"  he  exclaimed,  becoming  very  familiar.  "I'll  have  all 
my  little  women  down." 

But  Nana  objected,  though  she  was  beginning  to  forget  herself. 
Fontan  attracted  her  with  his  grotesque  face.  She  kept  close  to 
his  side,  looking  tenderly  at  him  like  a  pregnant  woman  with  a 
longing  for  something  the  reverse  of  nice;  suddenly  she  addressed 
him  most  familiarly: 

"Come,  pour  out,  you  big  ninny!" 

Fontan  filled  the  glasses  again,  and  they  drank,  repeating  the 
same  toasts. 

"His  Highness!" 

"The  army!" 

"Venus!" 

But  Nana  motioned  for  silence.  She  held  her  glass  high  above 
her  head,  and  said,  "No,  no,  we  must  drink  to  Fontan!  It's 
Fontan's  saint's-day.  To  Fontan!  Fontan!" 

Then  they  clinked  glasses  a  third  time,  and  they  all  exclaimed 
"  Fontan."  The  prince,  who  had  noticed  the  young  woman  devour 
the  actor  with  her  eyes,  bowed  to  him. 

"M.  Fontan,"  said  he,  with  true  politeness,  "I  drink  to  your 
successes." 

Meanwhile  His  Highnesses  overcoat  was  rubbing  against  the 
marble  dressing-table  behind  him.  It  was  like  being  in  the  depths 
of  an  alcove,  or  a  narrow  bath-room,  with  this  vapour  from  the 
basin  and  the  sponges,  the  strong  perfume  from  the  scents  mixed 
with  the  slightly  sourish  intoxicating  odour  of  the  champagne. 
The  prince  and  Count  Muffat,  between  whom  Nana  now  found 
herself,  were  obliged  to  hold  up  their  hands  so  as  not  to  touch  her 
hips  or  her  bosom  each  time  they  moved.  And  Madame  Jules, 
without  the  least  sign  of  perspiration,  was  waiting,  standing  as 
erect  as  a  post;  whilst  Satin,  with  all  her  vice,  astonished  at  see- 
ing a  prince  and  gentlemen  in  evening-dress  join  in  a  lot  of  mum- 
mers in  running  after  a  naked  woman,  thought  to  herself  that 
fashionable  people  were  not  so  very  virtuous  after  all. 

Old  Barillot  now  came  along  the  passage  tingling  his  bell. 
When  he  appeared  at  the  dressing-room  door  and  saw  the  three 
actors  still  in  their  second  act  costumes,  he  was  almost  dumb- 
foundered. 

"Oh!  gentlemen,  gentlemen,"  he  stammered  out,  "do  be  quick. 
The  bell  has  just  rung  in  the  foyer." 


NANA 

"Never  mind!"  said  Bordenave,  coolly;  "the  audience  can 
wait." 

Nevertheless,  as  the  bottles  were  empty,  the  actors  went  up  to 
dress,  after  again  bowing.  Bosc,  having  soaked  his  beard  with 
champagne,  had  taken  it  off,  and  beneath  the  venerable  appendage 
the  drunkard  had  suddenly  reappeared,  with  the  diseased  and 
purple  face  of  an  old  actor  who  had  taken  to  drink.  He  was  heard 
at  the  foot  of  the  stair-case  saying  to  Fontan,  in  his  hoarse  voice, 
in  allusion  to  the  prince: 

"Now,  didn't  I  astonish  him?" 

His  Highness,  the  count,  and  the  marquis  still  remained  with 
Nana.  Bordenave  had  gone  off  with  Barillot,  after  ordering  him 
not  to  have  the  curtain  raised  without  first  warning  madame. 

"Excuse  me,  gentlemen,"  said  Nana,  as  she  proceeded  to  make 
up  her  face  and  arms  again  with  more  than  ordinary  care  on  ac- 
count of  the  nudity  of  the  third  act.  The  prince  seated  himself 
on  the  sofa  with  the  Marquis  de  Chouard.  Only  Count  Muffat 
remained  standing.  The  couple  of  glasses  of  champagne,  taken 
in  that  suffocating  atmosphere,  had  increased  their  intoxication. 
Satin,  seeing  the  gentlemen  shut  in  with  her  friend,  had  discreetly 
retired  behind  the  curtain,  and  there  she  waited,  seated  on  a 
trunk,  tired  of  doing  nothing;  whilst  Madame  Jules  quietly  moved 
about  the  room,  without  a  word,  and  without  looking  either  to  the 
right  or  to  the  left. 

"You  sang  your  rondeau  marvellously  well,"  observed  the 
prince. 

Then  the  conversation  was  established,  but  only  in  short  phrases, 
broken  by  numerous  pauses.  Nana  could  not  always  be  answer- 
ing. After  spreading  some  cold  cream  over  her  face  and  arms  with 
her  hand,  she  laid  on  the  white  paint  with  the  corner  of  a  towel. 
For  an  instant  she  ceased  looking  at  herself  in  the  glass,  and  smiled 
as  she  glanced  at  the  prince,  without,  however,  laying  down  the 
towel  and  the  paint. 

"Your  Highness  is  spoiling  me,"  she  murmured. 

The  making-up  was  a  most  complicated  business,  which  the 
Marquis  de  Chouard  followed  with  extreme  delight.  He,  also, 
ventured  an  observation. 

"Could  not  the  orchestra,"  he  asked,  "accompany  you  more 
softly?  It  drowns  your  voice,  and  that  is  an  unpardonable  crime." 

This  time  Nana  did  not  turn  round.    She  had  taken  the  hare's 

£123:1 


NANA 

foot,  and  was  passing  it  very  lightly  and  carefully  over  her  face, 
leaning  so  forward  over  the  dressing-table  as  to  cause  the  rounded 
portion  of  her  white  drawers  to  swell  out,  the  corner  of  her 
chemise  still  protruding.  To  show  that  she  was  sensible  of  the 
old  gentleman's  compliment,  she  slightly  moved  her  hips.  A 
pause  ensued.  Madame  Jules  had  observed  a  rent  in  the  drawers. 
She  took  one  of  the  pins  stuck  over  her  heart,  and  remained  kneel- 
ing for  a  moment  on  the  ground,  occupied  about  Nana's  leg; 
whilst  the  young  woman,  without  appearing  to  know  that  she  was 
there,  was  covering  herself  with  powder,  being  careful,  however, 
not  to  lay  any  on  the  upper  part  of  her  cheeks.  When  the  prince 
remarked  that,  if  she  came  to  sing  in  London,  all  England  would 
want  to  applaud  her,  she  laughed  pleasantly,  and  turned  herself 
round  for  a  second,  her  left  cheek  very  white  in  the  midst  of  a 
cloud  of  powder.  Then  she  suddenly  became  very  serious:  she 
was  about  to  put  on  the  rouge.  Once  more,  standing  with  her 
face  close  to  the  glass,  she  dipped  her  finger  in  a  pot,  and  applied 
the  rouge  under  her  eyes,  spreading  it  gently  up  to  the  temples. 
The  gentlemen  maintained  a  respectful  silence. 

Count  Muff  at  had  scarcely  said  a  word:  he  was  immersed  in 
thoughts  of  his  youth.  The  room  he  had  when  a  child  had  been 
very  cold.  Later  on,  when  sixteen  years  old,  he  used  to  kiss  his 
mother  every  night,  and  would  then  feel,  even  in  his  sleep,  the 
icy  coldness  of  her  embrace.  One  day,  as  he  passed  a  half-closed 
door,  he  caught  a  glimpse  of  a  maid-servant  washing  herself; 
and  that  was  the  only  reminiscence  that  had  troubled  him  from 
the  age  of  puberty  to  the  day  of  his  marriage.  Then  he  had  en- 
countered in  his  wife  a  strict  observance  of  conjugal  duties;  he 
himself  experienced  a  sort  of  devout  repugnance.  He  grew  up, 
he  grew  old,  ignorant  of  the  ways  of  the  flesh,  bent  to  rigid  religious 
practices,  having  regulated  his  life  according  to  precepts  and  laws; 
and  suddenly  he  found  himself  deposited  in  this  actress's  dressing- 
room,  in  company  of  this  almost  naked  girl.  He  who  had  never 
even  seen  Countess  Muff  at  put  on  her  garters  was  now  assisting 
at  the  most  secret  details  of  a  woman's  toilet,  in  the  midst  of  that 
fascinating  and  powerful  odour,  surrounded  by  all  those  pots  and 
basins.  His  whole  being  revolted;  the  slow  possession  that  Nana 
had  taken  of  him  for  some  little  time  past  terrified  him,  as  it 
recalled  to  his  mind  the  pious  stories  he  had  read  in  his  childhood 
of  persons  possessed  by  devils.  He  believed  in  the  devil.  In  his 


NANA 

confused  state  of  mind,  Nana,  with  her  smiles  and  her  body  full 
of  vice,  was  the  devil  in  person.  But  he  would  be  strong;  he 
would  know  how  to  defend  himself. 

"Then  that  is  settled,"  the  prince  was  saying,  as  he  took  his 
ease  on  the  sofa.  "  Next  year  you  come  to  London,  and  you  will 
receive  such  a  welcome  that  you  will  never  return  to  France.  Ah! 
my  dear  count,  you  do  not  value  your  pretty  women  sufficiently. 
We  shall  take  them  all  from  you." 

"He  will  not  miss  them,"  maliciously  murmured  the  Marquis  de 
Chouard,  who  threw  off  his  mask  on  such  occasions  as  the  present. 
"The  count  is  virtue  itself." 

Hearing  the  count's  virtue  spoken  of,  Nana  looked  at  him  in  so 
peculiar  a  manner  that  Muffat  felt  greatly  annoyed.  Then  he 
was  surprised  at  having  given  way  to  the  feeling,  and  became  angry 
with  himself.  Why  should  the  fact  of  his  being  virtuous  embarrass 
him  in  the  presence  of  that  girl?  He  could  have  beaten  her.  But 
Nana,  reaching  over  for  a  hair  pencil,  let  it  fall;  and  as  she 
stooped  to  pick  it  up,  he  hastened  to  anticipate  her.  Their  breaths 
mingled,  and  Venus's  golden  locks  fell  over  his  hands.  It  was  a 
pleasure  alloyed  with  remorse  —  one  of  those  pleasures  of  Catholics 
whom  the  fear  of  hell  is  perpetually  goading  when  in  sin. 

Just  then  old  Barillot's  voice  was  heard  outside.  "Madame, 
may  I  give  the  signal?  The  audience  is  becoming  very  im- 
patient." 

"Presently,"  replied  Nana,  without  hurrying  herself. 

She  had  dipped  the  hair  pencil  into  a  pot  of  black;  then,  her 
nose  almost  touching  the  looking-glass,  her  left  eye  closed,  she 
delicately  painted  the  lashes.  Muffat  stood  behind  her,  looking 
on.  He  saw  her  in  the  glass,  with  her  plump  shoulders  and  her 
neck  drowned  in  a  roseate  shadow;  and  he  could  not,  in  spite  of 
his  efforts,  withdraw  his  gaze  from  that  face  rendered  so  provoking 
by  the  closed  eye,  and  full  of  dimples,  as  though  transported  with 
desires.  When  she  shut  her  right  eye,  and  applied  the  pencil,  he 
felt  that  he  belonged  to  her  wholly. 

"Madame,"  again  cried  the  panting  voice  of  the  old  call-boy, 
"they  are  stamping  their  feet;  they  will  end  by  smashing  the 
seats.  May  I  give  the  signal?" 

"Oh!  damn  'em!"  said  Nana  angrily.  "Give  the  signal;  I 
don't  care!  If  I'm  not  ready,  well!  they'll  have  to  wait  for  me." 
Suddenly  calming  herself,  she  turned  towards  the  gentlemen,  and 


NANA 

added  with  a  smile,  "  It's  true;  one  can't  even  have  a  few  minutes' 
quiet  conversation." 

She  had  now  finished  her  face  and  arms.  She  added,  with  her 
finger,  two  broad  streaks  of  carmine  to  her  lips.  Count  Muffat 
felt  more  agitated  still,  bewitched  by  the  perversion  of  the  pow- 
ders and  the  pigments,  seized  with  an  inordinate  desire  for  that 
painted  beauty,  with  her  mouth  too  red  and  her  face  too  white, 
her  eyes  enlarged,  ardent  and  circled  with  black,  as  though  wounded 
by  love.  However,  Nana  passed  behind  the  curtain  for  a  moment 
to  get  into  Venus's  tights,  after  taking  off  her  drawers.  Then, 
without  the  least  shame,  she  doffed  her  chemisette,  and  held  out 
her  arms  to  Madame  Jules,  who  slipped  on  the  short  sleeves  of 
the  tunic. 

"Now,  let  me  dress  you  quick,  as  they  are  making  a  distur- 
bance!" murmured  the  old  woman. 

The  prince,  with  half  closed  eyes,  examined  the  symmetry  of 
her  neck  and  chest  with  the  eye  of  a  connoisseur,  whilst  the  Mar- 
quis de  Chouard  wagged  his  head  involuntarily.  Muffat,  in  order 
that  he  might  see  no  more,  gazed  down  at  the  carpet.  Venus 
was  now  ready,  as  that  gauze  drapery  was  all  that  she  wore  over 
her  shoulders.  Madame  Jules  hovered  round  her,  looking  like  an 
old  woman  carved  out  of  wood,  with  clear,  expressionless  eyes, 
and  every  now  and  then  she  kept  taking  pins  from  the  inexhaustible 
cushion  over  her  heart  to  pin  Venus's  tunic,  passing  her  bony 
hands  over  those  next  to  naked  rolls  of  fat,  without  their  awaken- 
ing in  her  mind  a  single  recollection,  and  with  the  greatest  indif- 
ference for  her  sex. 

"There!"  said  the  young  woman,  as  she  gave  a  last  look  at 
herself  in  the  glass. 

Bordenave  came  back,  very  anxious,  saying  that  the  third  act 
had  commenced. 

"Well!  I  am  ready,"  resumed  she.  "What  a  fuss  to  make! 
I  always  have  to  wait  for  the  others." 

The  gentlemen  left  the  dressing-room,  but  they  did  not  say 
good-bye,  the  prince  having  a  desire  to  witness  the  third  act  from 
the  wings.  Left  alone,  Nana  looked  about  her  with  surprise. 

"Wherever  has  she  got  to?"  asked  she. 

She  was  seeking  Satin.  When  she  at  length  found  her  behind 
the  curtain,  sitting  waiting  on  the  trunk,  Satin  quietly  said,  "I 
certainly  didn't  intend  to  be  in  your  way  there,  with  all  those 

CI26] 


NANA 

men!"  And  she  added  that  she  would  now  go  off.  But  Nana 
stopped  her.  She  must  be  cracked  to  think  of  such  a  thing, 
when  Bordenave  had  consented  to  engage  her!  They  could  settle 
the  matter  after  the  performance.  Satin  hesitated.  It  was  alto- 
gether such  a  queer  place,  nothing  like  anything  she  had  been  used 
to.  In  spite  of  all  this,  however,  she  remained. 

As  the  prince  descended  the  little  wooden  staircase,  a  strange 
noise,  a  mixture  of  stifled  oaths  and  stampings  of  feet  as  of  men 
struggling,  reached  him  from  the  other  side  of  the  theatre.  It 
was  caused  by  an  occurrence  that  quite  scared  the  actors  and 
actresses  awaiting  their  cues.  For  some  little  while  Mignon  had 
been  amusing  himself  again  by  overwhelming  Fauchery  with  deli- 
cate attentions.  He  had  just  imagined  a  little  game,  which  con- 
sisted in  every  now  and  then  snapping  his  fingers  close  to  the 
journalistic  nose,  to  keep  the  flies  off,  as  he  said.  This  little  busi- 
ness naturally  amused  the  onlookers  immensely.  But  suddenly, 
Mignon,  carried  away  by  his  success,  taking  a  greater  interest  in 
the  performance,  gave  the  journalist  what  was  really  a  blow,  and 
a  good  hard  blow  too.  This  time  he  had  gone  too  far.  Fauchery 
could  not,  in  the  presence  of  the  others,  smilingly  receive  such  a 
punch  on  the  nose.  And  the  two  men,  putting  an  end  to  the  comedy, 
their  faces  livid  and  full  of  hate,  had  sprung  at  each  others'  throats. 
They  rolled  about  the  stage,  behind  one  of  the  side-scenes,  calling 
each  other  the  vilest  names  imaginable. 

"M.  Bordenave!  M.  Bordenave!"  cried  the  terrified  stage- 
manager,  panting  for  breath. 

Bordenave  followed  him,  after  having  begged  to  be  excused  by 
the  prince.  When  he  recognised  Fauchery  and  Mignon  on  the 
ground,  he  made  a  gesture  implying  that  he  was  very  much  put  out. 
Really,  they  chose  a  nice  time,  with  His  Highness  on  the  other 
side  of  the  scenery,  and  all  the  audience,  who  could  overhear 
them!  To  complete  his  annoyance,  Rose  Mignon  arrived,  all  out 
of  breath,  and  at  the  moment  she  had  to  go  on  the  stage.  Vulcan 
gave  her  her  cue,  but  Rose  remained  as  though  petrified,  as  she 
caught  sight  of  her  husband  and  her  lover  lying  at  her  feet,  strang- 
ling each  other,  struggling  together,  their  hair  all  in  disorder,  their 
clothes  covered  with  dust.  She  was  unable  to  pass  them,  and  one 
of  the  scene-shifters  only  just  succeeded  in  catching  hold  of  Fau- 
chery's  hat  as  it  was  rolling  into  view  of  the  audience.  Vulcan, 
who  had  meanwhile  interpolated  a  string  of  gag  to  amuse  the 


NANA 

audience,  again  gave  Rose  her  cue.  But  she  stood  watching  the 
two  men,  without  moving. 

"Don't  look  at  them!"  angrily  whispered  Bordenave  behind 
her.  "Go  on!  go  on!  It's  nothing  to  do  with  you!  You're  miss- 
ing your  cue!" 

And,  pushed  forward  by  him,  Rose  stepped  over  the  prostrate 
bodies,  and  found  herself  before  the  audience  in  the  glare  of  the 
footlights.  She  had  not  understood  why  they  were  on  the  ground 
fighting  together.  All  in  a  tremble,  and  with  a  buzzing  in  her  ears, 
she  walked  towards  the  conductor  with  the  bewitching  smile  of  an 
amorous  Diana,  and  gave  the  first  line  of  her  duo  in  so  warm  a 
voice,  that  she  received  quite  an  ovation.  But  she  could  still 
hear  the  two  men  pommelling  each  other  at  the  side.  They  had 
now  rolled  to  within  a  few  steps  of  the  footlights.  Fortunately 
the  noise  of  the  band  prevented  the  sound  of  the  blows  reaching 
the  audience. 

"Damnation!"  exclaimed  Bordenave,  exasperated,  when  he  had 
at  length  succeeded  in  separating  the  pair,  "couldn't  you  go  and 
fight  it  out  in  your  own  place?  You  know  very  well  I  don't  like 
this  sort  of  thing.  You,  Mignon,  you  will  do  me  the  pleasure  of 
remaining  here,  on  the  prompt  side;  and  you,  Fauchery,  I'll  kick 
you  out  of  the  theatre  if  you  dare  to  leave  the  o.p.  side.  Now, 
that's  understood,  eh?  Prompt  side  and  o.p.  side,  or  else  I'll  for- 
bid Rose  to  bring  you  here  again." 

When  he  returned  to  the  prince,  the  latter  asked  what  had 
been  the  matter.  "Oh!  nothing  at  all,"  he  calmly  mur- 
mured. 

Nana,  wrapped  in  a  fur  cloak,  stood  talking  to  the  gentlemen 
while  she  waited  for  her  cue.  As  Count  Muffat  advanced  to  obtain 
a  view  of  the  stage  between  two  side  scenes,  he  understood  from 
a  sign  of  the  stage-manager  that  he  must  tread  softly.  All  was 
quiet  up  above.  In  the  wings,  which  were  most  brilliantly  lighted 
up,  a  few  persons  were  standing  talking  in  whispers,  or  moving  off 
on  tiptoe.  The  gas-man  was  at  his  post,  close  to  the  complicated 
collection  of  taps;  a  fireman,  leaning  against  one  of  the  supports, 
was  stretching  his  neck  trying  to  get  a  glimpse  of  the  performance; 
whilst  the  man  who  manoeuvred  the  curtain  was  waiting  on  his 
seat  up  aloft,  with  a  resigned  look  on  his  countenance,  quite  ignor- 
ing the  piece  and  merely  listening  for  the  bell  which  directed  his 
movements.  And,  in  the  midst  of  this  stifling  atmosphere  and  the 


NANA 

faint  noise  caused  by  the  light  footsteps  and  the  low  whispers,  the 
sound  of  the  voices  of  the  actors  on  the  stage  seemed  strange  and 
hushed,  and  surprisingly  out  of  tune.  Then,  farther  off,  beyond 
the  din  of  the  orchestra,  there  was  the  audience  breathing  as  with 
one  immense  respiration,  which  now  and  again  swelled  as  it  broke 
out  in  murmurs,  laughter,  and  applause.  One  could  feel  the  public 
without  seeing  it,  even  when  it  was  silent. 

"There  is  something  open,"  said  Nana  suddenly,  drawing  her 
fur  cloak  closer  around  her.  "Look  and  see,  Barillot.  I'm  sure 
some  one  has  opened  a  window.  Really,  the  place  will  be  the 
death  of  me!" 

Barillot  swore  that  he  had  shut  everything  himself.  Perhaps 
there  was  a  broken  window  somewhere.  Actors  were  always  com- 
plaining of  draughts.  In  the  oppressive  heat  of  the  gas,  one  of 
those  currents  of  cold  air,  productive  of  inflammation  of  the  lungs, 
as  Fontan  said,  might  frequently  be  felt. 

"  I  should  like  to  see  you  have  to  stand  here  with  hardly  any- 
thing on  you,"  continued  Nana,  who  was  getting  angry. 

"Hush!"  muttered  Bordenave. 

On  the  stage,  Rose  had  thrown  so  much  expression  into  a  phrase 
of  her  duo  that  the  applause  quite  drowned  the  music.  Nana 
left  off  talking,  and  looked  very  serious.  On  the  count  advancing 
too  far  along  one  of  the  wings,  Barillot  stopped  him,  saying  that 
he  might  be  seen.  He  caught  sight  of  the  reverse  of  the  side- 
scenes  slantwise,  with  the  backs  of  the  frames  consolidated  by  a 
thick  layer  of  old  posters,  and  a  portion  of  the  further  drop, 
representing  the  silver  cavern  of  Mount  Etna,  with  Vulcan's 
forge  in  the  background.  The  floats  that  had  been  lowered  cast 
a  glare  of  light  on  the  daubs  of  metallic  paint  representing  the 
silver.  Some  red  and  blue  glass  judiciously  intermingled  imitated 
the  flames  of  a  furnace;  whilst  midway  up  the  stage  a  number 
of  flaring  gas-jets  running  along  the  floor  lit  up  a  row  of  black  rocks. 
And  behind  these,  reclining  on  a  gently  sloping  boulder,  surrounded 
by  all  the  lights,  which  looked  like  so  many  Chinese  lanterns 
among  the  grass  on  a  day  of  illuminations,  old  Madame  Drouard 
who  played  Juno,  and  was  half  blinded  by  the  glitter,  drowsily 
awaited  the  moment  to  make  her  appearance. 

Just  then  there  was  a  slight  commotion.  Simone,  who  was 
listening  to  a  story  of  Clarisse's,  exclaimed,  "Halloa!  there's  old 
Tricon!" 


NANA 

It  was,  indeed,  old  Tricon,  with  her  long  curls  and  her  air  of  a 
countess  consulting  her  solicitor.  As  soon  as  she  caught  sight  of 
Nana,  she  went  straight  up  to  her. 

"No,"  said  the  latter,  after  a  rapid  exchange  of  words.  "Not 
this  time." 

The  old  lady  looked  very  solemn.  PruIIiere  shook  hands  with 
her,  as  he  passed  by.  Two  little  chorus  girls  gazed  on  her 
with  emotion.  For  a  moment  she  seemed  to  hesitate;  then  she 
beckoned  to  Simone,  and  another  rapid  exchange  of  words 
took  place. 

"Yes,"  said  Simone,  at  last.    "  In  half  an  hour." 

But,  as  she  went  up  to  her  dressing-room,  Madame  Bron,  who 
was  again  distributing  some  letters,  handed  her  one.  Bordenave,  in 
a  low  tone  of  voice,  began  abusing  the  doorkeeper  for  having  let 
old  Tricon  into  the  theatre.  That  woman  in  the  place  when  His 
Highness  was  there!  it  was  disgusting!  Madame  Bron,  who  had 
been  thirty  years  in  the  theatre,  replied  in  a  surly  tone  of  voice : 
How  was  she  to  know?  Madame  Tricon  transacted  business  with 
all  the  ladies.  M.  Bordenave  had  seen  her  there  dozens  of  times 
without  ever  saying  a  word;  and  whilst  the  manager  muttered  a 
string  of  oaths,  old  Tricon  coolly  examined  the  prince,  staring  him 
straight  in  the  face,  like  a  woman  who  weighs  a  man  with  a  glance. 
A  smile  lighted  up  her  yellow  countenance.  Then  she  slowly  re- 
tired in  the  midst  of  the  little  women,  who  respectfully  made  way 
for  her  to  pass. 

"As  soon  as  possible;  now  don't  forget,"  said  she,  turning 
towards  Simone. 

Simone  seemed  very  much  worried.  The  letter  was  from  a 
young  man  whom  she  had  promised  to  meet  that  evening.  She 
gave  Madame  Bron  a  note  she  had  hastily  scribbled,  "Not  to- 
night, ducky;  I'm  engaged."  But  she  remained  very  anxious; 
the  young  man  might  wait  for  her  all  the  same.  As  she  was  not 
in  the  third  act,  she  wished  to  get  away  at  once,  so  she  asked 
Clarisse  to  go  and  see.  The  latter  had  nothing  to  do  until  almost 
the  end  of  the  piece.  She  went  down  stairs,  whilst  Simone  re- 
turned for  a  minute  to  the  dressing-room  they  shared  together. 
There  was  no  one  in  Madame  Bron's  little  bar  below  but  a  super, 
dressed  in  a  red  and  gold  costume,  who  personated  Pluto.  The 
door-keeper's  little  business  had  evidently  gone  well,  for  the 
recess  under  the  stairs  was  quite  damp  from  the  rinsings  of  the 


NANA 

glasses.  Clarisse  gathered  up  the  skirts  of  her  robe,  which  dragged 
on  the  greasy  steps;  but  she  prudently  stopped  when  she  got  to 
where  the  staircase  turned,  and,  stretching  out  her  neck,  took  a 
peep  into  the  room. 

She  was  well  inspired,  for  that  idiot  La  Faloise  was  still  waiting 
there,  on  the  same  chair,  between  the  table  and  the  stove!  He 
had  pretended  to  go  off  when  Simone  had  spoken  to  him,  and 
returned  directly  after.  The  room,  too,  was  still  full  of  gentlemen 
in  evening  dress,  with  light  kid  gloves,  and  looking  submissive 
and  patient.  They  were  all  waiting,  gravely  eyeing  one  another. 
On  the  table  there  only  remained  the  dirty  plates,  Madame  Bron 
having  just  distributed  the  last  bouquets;  a  rose  alone,  fallen 
from  one  of  them,  was  lying  half  faded,  close  to  the  old  cat,  who 
had  curled  herself  up  and  gone  to  sleep,  whilst  the  kittens  were 
madly  careering  between  the  gentlemen's  legs.  For  a  moment 
Clarisse  thought  of  having  La  Faloise  turned  out.  The  fool  didn't 
like  animals;  that  showed  what  sort  of  a  person  he  was.  He  kept 
his  arms  close  to  his  sides  for  fear  of  touching  the  old  cat,  asleep 
on  the  table  by  him. 

"Take  care!  he'll  catch  you,"  said  Pluto,  a  funny  fellow,  as  he 
went  upstairs  wiping  his  lips  with  the  back  of  his  hand. 

Then  Clarisse  gave  up  the  idea  of  having  a  row  with  La  Faloise. 
She  had  seen  Madame  Bron  hand  Simone's  letter  to  the  young 
man,  who  went  and  read  it  under  the  gas-jet  in  the  passage: 
"Not  to-night,  ducky;  I'm  engaged";  and,  no  doubt  used  to  the 
phrase,  he  quietly  went  off.  He,  at  least,  knew  how  to  behave! 
He  wasn't  like  the  others,  who  obstinately  sat  waiting  there  on 
Madame  Bron's  old  worn-out  cane  chairs,  in  that  lantern-like 
glass  box,  which  was  as  hot  as  an  oven,  and  which  didn't  smell 
particularly  nice.  What  dirty  beasts  men  were!  Clarisse  returned 
upstairs,  thoroughly  disgusted.  She  passed  at  the  back  of  the 
stage,  and  ran  up  the  three  flights  of  stairs  leading  to  her  dressing- 
room  to  let  Simone  know  that  the  young  man  had  gone  off.  At 
the  wings,  the  prince  had  drawn  Nana  on  one  side  and  was  con- 
versing with  her.  He  had  remained  with  her  all  the  time,  glancing 
tenderly  at  her  with  his  half  closed  eyes.  Nana,  without  looking 
at  him,  smilingly  said  "  yes,"  with  a  nod  of  her  head.  But  suddenly 
Count  Muffat  obeyed  an  invincible  feeling  within  him.  He  quitted 
Bordenave,  who  was  giving  him  some  information  respecting  the 
manoeuvring  of  the  windlasses  and  the  drums,  and  advanced  to 


NANA 

interrupt  their  conversation.  Nana  raised  her  eyes  and  smiled 
at  him,  the  same  as  she  smiled  at  His  Highness.  She  was,  how- 
ever, listening  all  the  while  for  her  cue. 

"The  third  act  is  the  shortest,  I  think,"  said  the  prince,  whom 
the  count's  presence  embarrassed. 

She  did  not  answer.  Her  face  changed  in  a  moment,  and  she 
was  entirely  occupied  with  her  business.  She  rapidly  let  the  fur 
cloak  slip  from  off  her  shoulders,  and  Madame  Jules,  standing 
behind  her,  received  it  in  her  arms;  and,  after  passing  her  hands 
over  her  hair  as  though  to  smooth  it,  she  advanced  on  the  stage 
in  an  almost  nude  state. 

"Hush!  hush!"  whispered  Bordenave. 

The  count  and  the  prince  remained  lost  in  surprise.  In  the  midst 
of  the  silence  there  arose  a  profound  sigh,  the  distant  murmur  of 
a  vast  crowd.  Every  night  the  same  effect  was  produced  as  Venus 
appeared  in  her  goddess-like  nudity.  Then  Muffat,  wishing  to  see, 
looked  through  a  hole  in  the  scenery.  Beyond  the  dazzling  semi- 
circle formed  by  the  foot-lights,  the  house  wore  a  sombre  look, 
as  though  filled  with  a  reddish  coloured  smoke;  and  on  that  neutral 
background,  over  which  the  rows  of  faces  seemed  to  cast  a  con- 
fused pallor,  Nana  stood  out  all  in  white,  looking  taller,  and  quite 
hiding  the  boxes  from  the  first  tier  to  the  amphitheatre.  He  could 
see  her  bent  back  and  her  opened  arms,  whilst  on  a  level  with  her 
feet  was  the  old  prompter's  head,  looking  as  though  it  was  severed 
from  his  body,  and  wearing  a  poor  and  honest  expression.  At 
certain  lines  of  Nana's  song,  an  undulating  movement  seemed  to 
start  from  her  neck,  to  descend  to  her  waist,  and  then  expire  at 
the  trailing  edge  of  her  flimsy  tunic.  When  she  had  uttered  her 
last  note,  in  the  midst  of  a  tempest  of  applause,  she  bowed,  the 
gauze  drapery  waving  about  her,  and  her  hair  reaching  to  her 
hips  as  she  did  so.  Seeing  her  thus,  bent  forward  and  with  her 
haunches  expanded,  move  backwards  towards  the  hole  through 
which  he  was  watching  her,  the  count  became  very  pale,  and 
turned  away.  The  stage  disappeared,  and  all  he  saw  was  the 
wrong  side  of  the  scenery,  the  medley  of  posters  pasted  in  all 
sorts  of  ways.  Amidst  the  gas-jets,  behind  the  row  of  rocks,  the 
other  Olympian  gods  and  goddesses  had  joined  Madame  Drouard 
who  was  still  dozing.  They  were  awaiting  the  end  of  the  act; 
Bosc  and  Fontan  seated  on  the  ground,  their  chins  buried  in  their 
knees,  PruIIiere  yawning  and  stretching  himself  before  making  his 

£132  3 


NANA 

last  appearance  of  the  evening,  all  of  them  looking  worn  out,  with 
bloodshot  eyes,  and  impatient  to  get  home  to  bed. 

Just  then,  Fauchery,  who  had  been  wandering  about  on  the 
*o.p.  side,  since  Bordenave  had  forbidden  him  to  appear  on  the 
prompt  one,  got  hold  of  the  count,  for  want  of  some  one  better, 
and  offered  to  show  him  the  dressing-rooms.  Muffat,  whom  an 
increasing  indolence  left  without  any  will  of  his  own,  ended  by 
following  the  journalist,  after  looking  about  for  the  Marquis  de 
Chouard,  who  was  no  longer  there.  He  felt,  at  the  same  time,  a 
relief  and  a  slight  uneasiness  on  leaving  the  wings,  from  whence 
he  could  hear  Nana's  voice.  Fauchery  had  already  preceded  him 
up  the  staircase,  which  was  shut  off  on  the  first  and  second  floors 
by  little  wooden  doors.  It  was  one  of  those  staircases  that  are 
generally  met  with  in  houses  of  evil  reputation  —  such  as  Count 
Muffat  had  occasionally  come  across  in  his  rounds  as  member  of 
the  poor  relief  committee  —  with  bare,  tumble-down,  yellow  walls, 
steps  all  worn  with  the  constant  traffic  of  feet,  and  an  iron  rail 
highly  polished  by  the  hands  that  rubbed  along  it.  On  each  land- 
ing, on  a  level  with  the  floor,  was  a  low  window,  looking  like  the 
air-hole  of  a  cellar;  and,  in  lanterns  fixed  against  the  walls,  jets 
of  gas  were  blazing,  crudely  lighting  up  all  this  wretchedness, 
whilst  emitting  a  heat  that  ascended  and  accumulated  beneath 
the  narrow  ceilings  of  the  landing-places. 

As  the  count  reached  the  foot  of  the  stairs,  he  again  felt  a 
scorching  breath  at  the  back  of  his  neck,  that  feminine  odour 
coming  from  the  dressing-rooms  above,  in  a  flood  of  light  and 
noise;  and  now,  at  every  step  he  mounted,  the  musky  smell  of 
the  face  powders,  the  tartness  of  the  toilet-vinegars,  heated  him 
and  stupefied  him  all  the  more.  On  the  first  landing  two  passages 
branched  off  with  a  sharp  turn,  and  on  to  these  several  doors, 
painted  yellow  and  bearing  large  white  numbers,  opened,  giving 
to  the  place  very  much  the  appearance  of  an  hotel  of  suspicious 
character.  Several  of  the  tiles  composing  the  flooring  were  miss- 
ing, and  left  so  many  holes.  The  count  ventured  along  one  of 
the  passages,  and  glancing  into  a  room,  the  door  of  which  was 
only  half  closed,  he  beheld  a  wretched  den,  looking  not  unlike  a 
barber's  shanty  in  some  low  neighbourhood,  and  furnished  with  two 
chairs,  a  looking-glass,  and  a  dressing-table  containing  a  drawer, 
blackened  by  the  grease  and  scurf  from  the  combs.  A  big  fellow, 
covered  with  perspiration,  and  his  shoulders  steaming,  was  chang- 


NANA 

ing  his  underlinen;  whilst  in  a  similar  room,  situated  close  by,  a 
woman,  ready  to  leave,  was  putting  on  her  gloves,  with  her  hair 
all  damp  and  uncurled,  as  though  she  had  just  come  out  of 
a  bath. 

Fauchery  here  called  to  the  count,  and  the  latter  reached  the 
second  storey  just  as  a  furiously  uttered  oath  issued  from  the 
passage  on  the  right.  Mathilde,  a  smutty  little  thing,  who  per- 
sonated virtuous  persecuted  damsels,  had  just  broken  her  basin, 
the  soapy  water  from  which  ran  out  on  to  the  landing.  A  door 
was  closed  violently.  Two  women  in  their  stays  jumped  across 
the  passage;  another,  holding  the  tail  of  her  chemise  between 
her  teeth,  suddenly  appeared,  and  as  hastily  made  off.  Then 
were  heard  a  great  deal  of  laughing,  the  sound  of  a  quarrel,  a 
song  commenced  and  almost  immediately  interrupted.  Through 
the  cracks  in  the  walls  and  the  doors  of  the  passage,  one  caught 
glimpses  of  nudity,  rosy  skins  and  white  underlinen.  Two  girls, 
who  were  very  merry,  were  showing  one  another  the  different 
marks  on  their  bodies;  a  third,  very  young,  almost  a  child,  had 
lifted  up  her  skirts,  and  was  mending  her  drawers;  whilst  the 
dressers,  seeing  the  two  men,  gently  closed  the  curtains  out  of 
decency. 

It  was  the  jostling  at  the  end  of  the  performance,  the  great  wash- 
ing off  of  white  paint  and  rouge,  the  resumption  of  everyday  dress 
in  the  midst  of  a  cloud  of  face  powder,  an  increase  of  the  human 
odour  which  issued  through  the  slamming  doors.  Arrived  on  the 
third  storey,  Muffat  abandoned  himself  to  the  intoxication  which 
was  taking  possession  of  him.  The  dressing-room  of  the  female 
supers  was  there:  twenty  women  heaped  together,  a  confusion  of 
soaps  and  bottles  of  lavender  water,  resembling  the  common  room 
of  a  house  of  ill-fame  in  the  suburbs.  As  he  passed,  he  heard  be- 
hind a  closed  door  a  great  noise  of  washing,  a  storm  in  a  basin. 
And  he  was  moving  on  to  the  top  storey,  when  he  had  the  curiosity 
to  look  through  a  peep-hole  left  open  in  a  door;  the  room  was  un- 
occupied, and  all  he  could  see  by  the  light  of  the  flaring  gas  was  a 
familiar  utensil  forgotten  amidst  a  pile  of  skirts  thrown  on  the 
floor.  This  was  the  last  vision  he  carried  away  with  him.  Up 
above,  on  the  fourth  storey,  he  felt  as  though  he  would  choke.  All 
the  odours,  all  the  heat  congregated  there.  The  yellow  ceiling  had 
a  roasted  appearance;  a  gas-lamp  was  burning  in  a  sort  of  ruddy 
mist.  For  a  moment  he  clung  to  the  iron  railing,  which  had  the 

c  134:1 


NANA 

cool  feeling  of  living  flesh,  and,  closing  his  eyes,  he  drew  a  long 
breath,  seeming  by  doing  so  to  inhale  all  that  pertained  to  the 
female  sex  he  was  still  unacquainted  with,  although  he  was,  as  it 
were,  enveloped  by  j^^ 

"Come  on,"  crieoFauchery,  who  had  disappeared  a  moment 
before;  "someone  wants  you." 

He  was  in  Clarisse's  and  Simone's  dressing-room  —  a  long  sort 
of  attic  under  the  slates,  badly  constructed,  with  innumerable 
angles.  Two  deep  openings  in  the  roof  admitted  the  light.  But, 
at  that  time  of  night,  flames  of  gas  illuminated  the  room,  hung 
with  wall-paper,  rose-coloured  flowers  on  a  green  trellis-work, 
costing  a  farthing  a  yard.  Side  by  side  two  wooden  shelves,  deal- 
boards  covered  with  oil-cloth,  blackened  by  the  dirty  water  con- 
stantly spilt  upon  it,  served  as  dressing-tables;  beneath  them  were 
scattered  some  zinc  cans  very  much  the  worse  for  wear,  two  or 
three  pails  full  of  slops,  and  several  coarse  yellow  earthenware 
jugs.  There  were,  in  fact,  an  infinity  of  things  more  or  less  damaged 
or  dirtied  by  use  —  chipped  basins,  horn  combs  with  half  the  teeth 
broken  off,  all,  indeed,  which  the  haste  and  carelessness  of  two 
women,  who  dress  and  wash  in  common,  leave  untidily  about  them 
in  a  place  that  they  only  momentarily  occupy,  and  the  dirt  and 
disorder  of  which  no  longer  affects  them  when  once  they  are  out 
of  it. 

"Come  on,"  repeated  Fauchery,  with  that  comradeship  which 
men  affect  when  in  company  with  damsels  of  easy  virtue;  "Clarisse 
wants  to  kiss  you." 

Muffat  at  length  entered  the  room,  but  he  was  greatly  surprised 
to  find  the  Marquis  de  Chouard  seated  on  a  chair  between  the  two 
dressing-tables.  The  marquis  had  retired  there.  He  kept  his  feet 
wide  apart  because  one  of  the  pails  leaked,  making  a  big  pool  of 
soapy  water  on  the  floor.  He  appeared  to  be  very  much  at  his 
ease,  evidently  knowing  the  best  places,  and  looking  quite  young 
again  in  that  oppressive  bath-room  atmosphere,  in  the  presence 
of  that  quiet  feminine  wantonness,  which  the  unclean  surroundings 
rendered  the  more  natural  and,  so  to  say,  excusable. 

"Are  you  going  with  the  old  boy?"  asked  Simone  of  Clarisse, 
in  a  whisper. 

"Never!  not  if  I  know  it!"  answered  the  latter  out  loud. 

The  dresser,  a  very  ugly  and  very  familiar  young  girl,  who  was 
helping  Simone  to  put  on  her  cloak,  burst  out  laughing.  They 


NANA 

all  three  incited  one  another,  murmuring  words  which  redoubled 
their  merriment. 

"Come,  Clarisse;  kiss  the  gentleman,"  said  Fauchery.  "You 
know  he  can  afford  it."  And  turning  towards  the  count,  he  added, 
"  You'll  see,  she's  very  nice;  she's  going  to  kiss  you." 

But  Clarisse  had  had  enough  of  the  men.  She  spoke  vehemently 
of  the  beasts  who  were  waiting  belcw  in  the  doorkeeper's  room. 
Besides,  she  was  in  a  hurry  to  get  down,  they  would  make  her  miss 
her  cue  in  the  last  scene.  Then,  as  Fauchery  stood  in  front  of  the 
door  to  detain  her,  she  kissed  Muffat's  whiskers,  saying: 

"  It's  not  because  it's  you,  anyhow!  it's  merely  because  Fauchery 
bothers  me!"  And  she  hastened  away. 

The  count  felt  very  uneasy  in  the  presence  of  his  father-in-law. 
He  became  very  red  in  the  face.  When  in  Nana's  dressing-room, 
surrounded  by  all  the  luxury  of  mirrors  and  hangings,  he  had  not 
experienced  the  acrid  excitation  of  the  shameful  misery  of  that 
garret,  full  of  the  two  women's  indelicacy.  The  marquis,  however, 
had  gone  off  after  Simone,  who  seemed  in  a  great  hurry,  whisper- 
ing in  her  ear,  whilst  she  kept  shaking  her  head.  Fauchery  followed 
them  laughing.  Then  the  count  found  himself  left  alone  with  the 
dresser,  who  was  rinsing  out  the  basins.  So  he  also  went  off  and 
descended  the  staircase,  his  legs  scarcely  able  to  bear  his  weight, 
startling  women  in  their  petticoats,  and  causing  doors  to  be  hastily 
closed  as  he  passed.  But  in  the  midst  of  this  hurry-skurry  of 
girls  across  the  four  storeys,  the  only  thing  he  distinctly  saw  was  a 
cat  —  the  big  tortoise-shell  cat  who,  in  that  furnace  poisoned  with 
musk,  crawled  down  the  stairs  rubbing  its  back  against  the  rails 
of  the  balustrade,  with  its  tail  erect. 

"Well!"  exclaimed  a  woman's  hoarse  voice,  "I  thought  they 
were  going  to  keep  us  to-night!  They're  always  having  calls!" 

It  was  the  end;  the  curtain  had  just  gone  down.  There  was  a 
rush  up  the  staircase,  which  resounded  with  exclamations  of  all 
kinds;  everyone  was  in  a  violent  hurry  to  get  dressed  and  go  home. 
As  Count  Muffat  reached  the  foot  of  the  stairs  he  saw  Nana  and 
the  prince  walking  slowly  along  the  passage.  Stopping  suddenly, 
the  young  woman  smiled  and  said  in  a  low  tone  of  voice: 

"Very  well,  then;  in  a  few  minutes." 

The  prince  returned  to  the  stage,  where  Bordenave  awraited  him. 
Then,  finding  himself  alone  with  Nana,  Muffat  gave  way  to  an 
impulse  of  rage  and  desire  and  hastened  after  her,  and,  just  as 

CI363 


NANA 

she  reached  her  dressing-room,  he  kissed  her  roughly  on  the  back 
of  the  neck,  where  the  little  golden  curls  hung  between  her  shoul- 
ders. It  was  as  though  he  was  returning  the  kiss  he  had  received 
upstairs.  Nana,  in  a  fury,  raised  her  arm,  but,  when  she  recognised 
the  count,  she  smiled. 

"Oh!  you  frightened  me,"  was  all  she  said. 

And  her  smile  was  adorable,  confused  and  submissive,  as  if  she 
had  despaired  of  that  kiss  and  was  happy  at  having  received  it. 
But  she  could  not  respond  to  it,  neither  then  nor  on  the  morrow. 
They  must  wait.  Even  if  she  had  not  been  obliged  to  do  so,  she 
would  have  made  him  wait.  Her  look  said  all  these  things.  At 
length  she  resumed: 

"You  know,  I  am  a  landowner  now.  Yes,  I  have  purchased  a 
small  estate  near  Orleans,  in  a  part  of  the  country  where  you  go 
sometimes.  Baby  told  me  so  —  little  George  Hugon;  you  know 
him,  do  you  not?  Come  and  see  me  there." 

The  timid  count,  frightened  at  his  own  rude  outburst,  ashamed 
of  what  he  had  done,  bowed  ceremoniously  and  promised  to  avail 
himself  of  her  invitation.  Then  he  went  off  to  rejoin  the  prince, 
walking  as  though  in  a  dream,  and  as  he  passed  the  green-room  he 
heard  Satin  exclaim: 

"You  are  a  dirty  old  beast!    Leave  me  alone!" 

It  was  the  Marquis  de  Chouard,  who,  for  want  of  some  one  better 
had  pitched  upon  Satin.  The  latter  thought  she  had  decidedly 
had  enough  of  those  fashionable  people.  Nana  had,  it  is  true, 
presented  her  to  Bordenave;  but  it  had  bored  her  too  much  to 
remain  all  the  while  with  her  mouth  shut,  for  fear  of  saying  some- 
thing stupid,  and  she  wanted  to  make  up  for  the  waste  of  time, 
the  more  especially  as  she  had  run  against  an  old  flame  of  hers  in 
the  wings,  the  super  who  personated  Pluto,  a  pastry-cook  who  had 
already  given  her  a  whole  week  of  love  and  blows.  She  was  wait- 
ing for  him,  and  felt  greatly  annoyed  with  the  marquis  for  address- 
ing her  as  though  she  was  one  of  the  women  of  the  theatre.  So 
she  ended  by  saying  in  a  very  dignified  tone  of  voice: 

"My  husband  will  be  here  directly,  and  then  you  will  see!" 

The  actors,  with  their  overcoats  on,  and  looking  very  fatigued, 
now  began  to  leave  one  by  one.  Groups  of  men  and  women  went 
down  the  little  winding  staircase,  casting  shadows  of  old  knocked- 
about  hats  and  ragged  shawls  on  the  wall,  with  the  ghastliness 
of  strollers  who  have  wiped  off  their  rouge.  On  the  stage,  where 

CI373 


NANA 

all  the  gas-jets  were  being  turned  out,  the  prince  was  listening  to 
an  anecdote  of  Bordenave's.  He  was  waiting  for  Nana.  When 
she  at  length  appeared,  the  stage  was  in  darkness,  and  the  fireman 
was  going  round  with  a  lantern  giving  a  last  look  to  everything. 
To  save  His  Highness  from  having  to  go  through  the  Passage 
des  Panoramas,  Bordenave  had  the  doors  opened  of  the  corridor 
leading  from  near  the  doorkeeper's  room  to  the  vestibule  of  the 
theatre,  and  several  of  the  women  scurried  along  there,  delighted 
at  escaping  from  the  men  who  were  waiting  for  them  outside  the 
stage-door.  They  pushed  against  each  other,  squeezing  their  way 
through,  glancing  back  every  instant,  and  holding  their  breath 
until  they  found  themselves  outside;  whilst  Fontan,  Bosc,  and 
PruIIiere  moved  slowly  off  home,  joking  amongst  themselves 
about  the  ladies'  protectors  —  solemn-looking  gentlemen,  who 
were  walking  up  and  down  the  Galerie  des  Varietes  near  the  stage- 
door,  at  the  same  time  that  the  damsels  themselves  were  hasten- 
ing along  the  Boulevards  in  the  company  of  the  chosen  ones  of 
their  hearts.  But  Clarisse  was  especially  cunning.  She  deter- 
mined to  beware  of  La  Faloise.  And,  in  fact,  he  was  still  in  the 
doorkeeper's  room  with  the  other  gentlemen  who  obstinately  stuck 
to  Madame  Bron's  chairs.  They  were  all  watching  and  listening 
intently;  so,  keeping  close  to  a  friend,  she  passed  rapidly  before 
them.  The  gentlemen  blinked  their  eyes,  bewildered  by  the  rapid 
succession  of  skirts  whirling  round  at  the  foot  of  the  narrow  stair- 
case, and  quite  despondent,  after  having  waited  so  long  for  the 
ladies,  at  seeing  them  all  disappear  like  that  without  being  able 
to  recognise  a  single  one.  The  litter  of  black  kittens  were  asleep 
on  the  oil-cloth,  cuddled  up  against  their  mother,  who,  with  a  look 
of  intense  happiness,  had  separated  her  legs  to  receive  them;  whilst 
the  big  tortoise-shell  cat,  seated  at  the  other  end  of  the  table  with 
its  tail  stretched  out,  watched  with  its  yellow  eyes  the  women 
hurrying  away. 

"If  His  Highness  will  pass  through  here,"  said  Bordenave,  at 
the  foot  of  the  stairs,  as  he  pointed  to  the  corridor. 

A  few  women  were  still  there  pushing  past  each  other.  The 
prince  followed  Nana,  and  Muffat  and  the  marquis  came  after 
them.  It  was  a  long  passage  situated  between  the  theatre  and 
the  next  house,  in  fact,  a  sort  of  narrow  alley  covered  with  a 
sloping  roof,  in  which  were  two  or  three  sky-lights.  A  dampness 
hung  about  the  walls,  and  the  footsteps  resounded  over  the  pave- 


NANA 

ment  the  same  as  in  a  tunnel.  It  was  full  of  the  disorder  of  a 
garret.  There  was  a  carpenter's  bench,  on  which  the  door-keeper's 
husband  occasionally  planed  a  piece  of  scenery,  and  quite  a  col- 
lection of  wooden  barriers  used  of  an  evening  to  regulate  the 
pressure  of  the  crowd.  Nana  was  obliged  to  hold  up  her  skirts  as 
she  passed  a  water-tap  which,  not  being  properly  turned  off,  was 
inundating  the  place.  On  reaching  the  vestibule  everyone  bowed. 
And  when  Bordenave  was  left  alone,  he  summed  up  his  opinion 
of  the  prince  with  a  shrug  of  the  shoulders,  full  of  a  disdainful 
philosophy. 

"  He's  a  bit  of  a  muff,  all  the  same,"  said  he,  without  explain- 
ing himself  further  to  Fauchery,  whom  Rose  Mignon  was  taking 
home  with  her  husband  with  the  intention  of  making  them  good 
friends  again. 

Muffat  found  himself  alone  on  the  footpath  outside.  His  High- 
ness had  quietly  placed  Nana  in  his  carriage  and  driven  off.  The 
marquis,  in  a  very  excited  state,  had  followed  Satin  and  her  super, 
contenting  himself  with  keeping  close  to  those  two  embodiments 
of  vice,  with  the  vague  hope  of  their  taking  compassion  on  him. 
Then  MufFat,  his  head  as  hot  as  a  furnace,  decided  to  go  home  on 
foot.  All  combat  within  him  had  ceased.  A  new  era  of  life  had 
drowned  all  his  ideas  and  his  beliefs  of  forty  years'  standing.  As 
he  walked  along  the  Boulevards  the  noise  caused  by  the  belated 
vehicles  seemed  to  deafen  him  with  the  sound  of  Nana's  name, 
whilst  in  the  gas-lamps  a  naked  vision,  Nana's  supple  arms  and 
her  white  shoulders,  appeared  to  dance  before  his  eyes,  and  he 
felt  that  he  was  wholly  hers;  he  would  have  abjured  all,  have  sold 
everything  he  possessed,  to  have  had  her  with  him  but  for  one 
short  hour  that  very  night.  It  was  his  youth  that  was  at  length 
awakening  within  him,  the  gluttonous  puberty  of  an  adolescent 
that  had  suddenly  become  inflamed  in  the  midst  of  his  Jesuitical 
coldness  and  his  dignity  of  mature  age. 


CI39] 


CHAPTER  VI 

COUNT  MUFFAT,  accompanied  by  his  wife  and  daughter, 
had  arrived  the  previous  evening  at  Les  Fondettes,  where 
Madame  Hugon,who  was  alone  with  her  son  George,  had 
invited  them  to  come  and  spend  a  week.  The  house,  built  to- 
wards the  end  of  the  seventeenth  century,  was  erected  in  the 
middle  of  an  immense  square  enclosure,  without  a  single  orna- 
ment; but  the  garden  contained  some  magnificent  trees,  and  a 
series  of  playing  fountains,  supplied  by  neighbouring  springs.  On 
the  road  from  Orleans  to  Paris  it  appeared  like  a  flood  of  verdure, 
a  bouquet  of  trees,  breaking  the  monotony  of  that  flat  country, 
where  cultivated  fields  could  be  seen  as  far  as  the  horizon. 

At  eleven  o'clock,  when  the  second  sounding  of  the  bell  had 
gathered  every  one  round  the  luncheon  table,  Madame  Hugon, 
with  her  kind,  maternal  smile,  kissed  Sabine  on  both  cheeks, 
saying: 

"You  know  that  when  in  the  country  I  always  do  so.  Having 
you  here  makes  me  feel  twenty  years  younger.  Did  you  sleep 
well  in  your  old  room?"  Then,  without  waiting  for  an  answer, 
she  turned  toward  Estelle,  adding,  "And  this  little  one  no  doubt 
slept  soundly  all  night?  Come  and  kiss  me,  my  child." 

They  had  sat  down  in  the  vast  dining-room,  the  windows  of 
which  looked  on  to  the  ornamental  garden;  but  they  only  occupied 
one  end  of  the  big  table,  so  as  to  be  more  together.  Sabine  was 
very  merry,  recalling  the  events  of  her  childhood  which  this 
visit  had  awakened:  months  passed  at  Les  Fondettes,  long  walks, 
a  fall  into  one  of  the  fountains  one  summer's  evening,  an  old 
romance  of  chivalry  discovered  on  the  top  of  some  cupboard  and 
read  in  winter,  seated  before  a  blazing  fire  of  vine-cuttings;  and 
George,  who  had  not  seen  the  countess  for  some  months  past, 
noticed  a  peculiar  look  about  her,  with  something  changed  in  the 
expression  of  her  face;  whilst  that  stick,  Estelle,  on  the  contrary, 
seemed  more  a  nonentity  than  ever,  still  more  awkward  and  dumb. 
As  they  were  eating  some  boiled  eggs  and  some  cutlets  done  very 

C  140] 


NANA 

plainly,  Madame  Hugon  began  to  complain,  as  only  the  mistress 
of  a  household  can,  of  the  outrageous  prices  the  butchers  were 
charging  for  their  meat.  She  had  to  have  everything  from  Orleans, 
and  they  never  sent  her  the  pieces  she  ordered.  Besides,  if  her 
guests  fared  badly  it  was  their  own  fault;  they  came  too  late 
in  the  season. 

"It  is  most  foolish,"  said  she.  "I  have  been  expecting  you 
ever  since  last  June,  and  now  we  are  in  the  middle  of  September. 
As  you  see,  it  is  no  longer  so  nice  out  of  doors." 

With  a  gesture,  she  indicated  the  trees  on  the  lawn,  the  leaves 
of  which  were  commencing  to  turn  yellow.  It  was  a  cloudy  day, 
a  kind  of  bluey  mist  obscured  the  horizon  in  a  melancholy  peace- 
fulness. 

"Oh!  I  am  expecting  some  people,"  continued  she;  "it  will 
be  more  lively.  First,  there  are  two  gentlemen  whom  George  has 
invited,  M.  Fauchery  and  M.  Daguenet.  You  know  them,  do 
you  not?  Then  M.  de  Vandeuvres,  who  has  promised  to  come 
these  five  years  past.  This  year,  perhaps,  he  will  really  do  so." 

"Ah,  well!"  said  the  countess,  laughing,  "we  have  not  much  to 
expect  if  we  have  only  M.  de  Vandeuvres  to  look  forward  to! 
He  is  too  busy." 

"And  Philippe!"  queried  Muffat. 

"Philippe  has  asked  for  leave,"  replied  the  old  lady,  "but  you 
will  probably  have  left  Les  Fondettes  before  he  arrives." 

The  coffee  had  just  been  served,  and  the  conversation  had  turned 
to  Paris,  when  Steiner  was  mentioned.  On  hearing  the  name, 
Madame  Hugon  uttered  a  faint  cry. 

"By  the  way,"  said  she,  "M.  Steiner  is  that  stout  gentleman 
I  met  at  your  house  one  evening,  is  he  not?  a  banker,  I  think. 
He  is  a  terrible  man.  He  has  bought  an  actress  a  small  estate 
about  a  league  from  here,  on  the  other  side  of  the  Choue,  near 
Gumieres!  Every  one  in  the  neighbourhood  is  scandalized.  Did 
you  know  of  it,  my  friend?" 

"Not  at  all,"  replied  MufFat.  "Ah!  so  Steiner  has  bought  an 
estate  near  here?" 

On  hearing  his  mother  approach  this  subject,  George  buried 
his  nose  in  his  cup;  but,  surprised  at  the  count's  answer,  he 
raised  his  head  again,  and  looked  Muffat  full  in  the  face.  Why 
had  he  lied  so  deliberately?  The  count  having,  on  his  side, 
noticed  the  young  man's  movement,  glanced  at  him  with  sus- 


NANA 

picion.  Madame  Hugon  gave  some  further  particulars.  The 
estate  was  called  La  Mignotte.  To  reach  it  you  had  to  follow 
the  course  of  the  Choue  as  far  as  Gumieres,  where  there  was  a 
bridge,  and  that  made  the  road  a  good  two  miles  longer;  other- 
wise you  had  to  wade  across  the  stream,  and  risk  falling  in. 

"And  what  is  the  actress's  name?"  asked  the  countess. 

"Ah!  I  had  heard  it  mentioned,"  murmured  the  old  lady. 
"George,  you  were  there  this  morning,  when  the  gardener  was 
talking " 

George  made  a  pretence  of  trying  to  recollect.  Muffat  waited, 
turning  a  teaspoon  between  his  fingers  meanwhile.  Then  the 
countess,  addressing  him,  said,  "Is  not  M.  Steiner  living  with 
that  singer  of  the  Variety  Theatre,  that  Nana?" 

"Nana;  yes,  that  is  the  name.  A  most  abandoned  woman!" 
exclaimed  Madame  Hugon,  who  was  losing  her  temper.  "And 
they  are  expecting  her  at  La  Mignotte.  I  have  heard  all  about  it 
from  the  gardener.  George,  did  not  the  gardener  say  they  expected 
her  this  evening?" 

The  count  started  slightly  with  surprise.  But  George  hastily 
replied,  "Oh,  mamma!  the  gardener  spoke  without  knowing. 
Only  a  little  while  ago  the  coachman  was  saying  something  quite 
different.  No  one  is  expected  at  La  Mignotte  until  the  day  after 
to-morrow." 

He  tried  to  talk  in  a  natural  manner,  and  watched  the  count 
from  out  of  the  corner  of  his  eye,  to  see  the  effect  of  his  words. 
Muffat,  with  a  reassured  look,  was  again  turning  the  spoon  be- 
tween his  fingers.  The  countess,  gazing  vaguely  on  the  bluey 
horizon,  seemed  to  be  miles  away  from  the  conversation,  as  she 
followed,  with  the  shadow  of  a  smile,  a  secret  thought  suddenly 
awakened  within  her;  whilst  Estelle,  erect  on  her  chair,  had 
listened  to  all  that  had  been  said  about  Nana  without  a  change 
on  her  pale  virgin  face. 

"Well!  really  now,"  murmured  Madame  Hugon,  after  a  pause, 
her  good  nature  triumphing,  "it  is  wrong  of  me  to  feel  angry. 
Every  one  must  live.  If  we  should  ever  meet  this  person  in  our 
walks,  the  only  thing  to  do  is  not  to  take  any  notice  of  her." 

And,  as  they  rose  from  the  table,  she  again  scolded  Countess 
Sabine  for  having  been  so  long  in  coming  to  see  her;  but  the  coun- 
tess excused  herself,  saying  the  delay  was  all  her  husband's  fault. 
Twice  when  they  had  been  ready  to  start,  with  their  trunks  all 

i:  i^n 


NANA 

packed,  he  had  put  off  their  departure,  saying  that  some  very 
important  matters  required  his  presence  in  Paris;  then  he  had 
suddenly  given  orders  for  starting,  just  as  the  journey  seemed 
definitely  abandoned.  Then  the  old  lady  related  that  George 
had  in  the  same  way  announced  to  her  his  coming  on  two  separate 
occasions,  but  had  not  made  his  appearance  at  either  time,  and 
that  he  had  suddenly  arrived  at  Les  Fondettes  two  days  before, 
when  she  was  no  longer  expecting  him.  They  had  now  entered 
the  garden.  The  two  men,  looking  very  important,  were  walking 
on  either  side  of  the  ladies,  and  listening  to  them  in  silence. 

"All  the  same,"  said  Madame  Hugon,  as  she  kissed  her  son's 
fair  hair,  "it  is  very  kind  of  Zizi  to  come  and  bury  himself  in  the 
country  with  his  old  mother.  Dear  Zizi!  he  does  not  forget  me!" 

During  the  afternoon,  she  became  very  uneasy.  George,  who 
directly  after  lunch  had  complained  of  pains  in  the  head,  appeared 
to  be  gradually  overcome  by  a  most  violent  headache.  Towards 
four  o'clock  he  said  he  would  go  upstairs  to  bed,  it  was  the  best 
remedy;  when  he  had  had  a  good  sleep  till  morning  he  would  be 
all  right  again.  His  mother  persisted  in  putting  him  to  bed  her- 
self. But,  as  she  left  the  room,  he  ran  and  locked  the  door  after 
her,  pretending  that  he  did  so  that  no  one  might  come  and  disturb 
him;  and  he  called  out,  "Good  night,  mother  dear!"  in  a  most 
loving  tone  of  voice,  and  promised  to  sleep  soundly  through  the 
night.  He  did  not  go  back  to  bed,  however,  but  with  a  bright 
complexion  and  sparkling  eyes  he  noiselessly  dressed  himself 
again,  then,  seating  himself  in  a  chair,  he  patiently  waited.  When 
the  dinner  bell  rang  he  watched  for  Count  Muffat,  whom  he  saw 
enter  the  drawing-room.  Ten  minutes  later,  certain  of  not  being 
seen,  he  nimbly  escaped  from  the  house  by  the  window  of  his 
room,  and  slid  down  a  water  pipe  to  the  ground.  He  found  him- 
self in  the  midst  of  a  shrubbery,  and  was  soon  outside  the  grounds; 
and,  with  an  empty  stomach,  and  a  heart  thumping  with  emotion, 
he  ran  across  country  in  the  direction  of  the  Choue.  Darkness 
was  setting  in,  and  a  fine  rain  had  commenced  to  fall. 

It  was  indeed  that  evening  that  Nana  was  expected  at  La 
Mignotte.  Ever  since  the  month  of  May,  when  Steiner  had 
bought  her  her  country  residence,  she  was  every  now  and  then 
seized  with  such  a  longing  to  go  and  inhabit  it,  that  she  would 
burst  into  tears;  but  each  time  Bordenave  refused  her  the  smallest 
holiday,  putting  her  off  until  September,  on  the  pretext  that  he 


NAN  A 

could  not  possibly  replace  her  by  an  under-study,  even  for  one 
night,  during  the  time  of  the  Exhibition.  Towards  the  end  of 
August,  he  began  to  talk  of  October.  Nana,  furious,  declared  that 
she  would  be  at  La  Mignotte  by  the  I5th  of  September,  and,  to 
show  that  she  meant  what  she  said,  she  invited  a  number  of 
people,  in  Bordenave's  presence,  to  go  and  stay  there  with  her. 
One  afternoon  as  Muffat,  whose  advances  she  artfully  resisted, 
was  passionately  imploring  her  to  be  less  cruel,  she  at  length 
promised  to  be  kind  when  she  was  in  the  country;  and,  to  him 
also,  she  named  the  I5th  as  the  date  of  her  arrival  there.  Then, 
on  the  1 2th,  she  was  seized  with  a  desire  to  start  off  at  once,  alone 
with  Zoe.  Perhaps  Bordenave,  knowing  that  she  wanted  to  go, 
would  find  some  means  of  detaining  her.  It  amused  her  to  think 
of  leaving  him  in  the  lurch  by  merely  sending  him  a  doctor's 
certificate.  When  once  the  idea  of  being  the  first  to  arrive  at 
La  Mignotte,  of  living  there  two  whole  days  without  any  one 
knowing  of  it,  had  seized  hold  of  her,  she  made  Zoe  hurry  the 
packing  of  the  trunks  and  then  pushed  her  into  a  cab,  where, 
quite  overcome,  she  kissed  her  and  begged  her  pardon.  It  was 
only  when  she  reached  the  railway  station  that  she  thought  of 
sending  a  note  to  Steiner  to  inform  him  of  her  departure.  She 
asked  him  to  wait  till  the  day  after  the  morrow  before  joining 
her,  if  he  wished  to  find  her  well  and  loving.  Then,  jumping  to 
another  idea,  she  wrote  a  second  letter,  in  which  she  begged  her 
aunt  to  bring  little  Louis  to  her  at  once.  It  would  do  baby  so 
much  good !  and  they  would  be  so  happy  playing  together  under 
the  trees!  In  the  train,  from  Paris  to  Orleans,  she  could  speak  of 
nothing  else,  with  her  eyes  full  of  tears,  and  mixing  up  together 
the  flowers,  the  birds,  and  her  child,  in  a  sudden  outburst  of  mater- 
nal affection. 

La  Mignotte  was  distant  more  than  three  leagues  from  Orleans. 
Nana  lost  an  hour  in  securing  a  vehicle  to  take  her  there  —  an 
immense  dilapidated  open  carriage,  which  rolled  slowly  along  with 
a  great  jingling  of  old  iron.  She  at  once  attacked  the  driver, 
a  little  taciturn  old  man,  whom  she  belaboured  with  questions. 
Had  he  often  passed  by  La  Mignotte?  So,  it  was  behind  that 
hill?  There  were  probably  plenty  of  trees  there,  were  there  not? 
And  could  the  house  be  seen  from  a  distance?  The  little  old 
fellow  only  answered  with  grunts.  Nana  jumped  about  impa- 
tiently in  the  vehicle;  whilst  Zoe,  annoyed  at  having  had  to  leave 

C  1443 


NANA 

Paris  in  such  a  hurry,  remained  stiff  and  sulky.  The  horse  having 
suddenly  stopped,  the  young  woman  thought  they  had  arrived. 
She  leant  over  towards  the  driver,  asking: 

"Is  this  the  place?" 

For  all  answer  the  coachman  whipped  up  his  horse,  which 
painfully  commenced  ascending  a  hill.  Nana  was  enchanted  with 
the  large  expanse  of  country  beneath  the  grey  overcast  sky. 

"  Oh !  look,  Zoe,  what  a  lot  of  grass !  Is  that  corn,  do  you  think? 
Heavens!  how  lovely!" 

"  It  is  very  plain  that  madame  has  never  been  in  the  country," 
the  maid  ended  by  saying  in  a  surly  tone  of  voice.  "  I  had  only 
too  much  of  the  country  when  I  was  at  the  dentist's,  who  had  a 
house  at  Bougival.  It's  very  chilly,  too,  this  evening.  Besides, 
the  air  is  damp  about  here." 

They  were  passing  beneath  some  trees.  Nana  sniffed  at  the 
scent  of  the  leaves  like  a  young  dog.  Suddenly,  on  the  road 
taking  a  turn,  she  caught  sight  of  the  corner  of  a  house  amidst 
the  trees.  Perhaps  that  was  it;  so  she  recommenced  questioning 
the  driver,  who  again  said  "No"  with  a  shake  of  the  head.  Then, 
as  they  descended  the  hill  on  the  other  side,  he  contented  himself 
with  pointing  his  whip,  murmuring: 

"There  it  is  over  there." 

She  jumped  up  and  looked  ahead.  "Where?  where?"  cried 
she,  very  pale  and  not  distinguishing  anything.  At  length  she 
noticed  a  bit  of  a  wall.  Then  she  sang  and  jumped  for  joy, 
like  a  woman  quite  overcome  by  a  powerful  emotion. 

"Zoe,  I  see  it,  I  see  it!  Look,  on  the  other  side.  Oh!  on  the 
roof  there's  a  sort  of  little  terrace  with  some  bricks.  Over  there 
there's  a  conservatory!  Oh!  but  it's  an  enormous  place.  Oh! 
I  am  so  pleased!  Look,  Zoe,  look!" 

The  carriage  had  stopped  in  front  of  the  iron  gates.  A  little 
side  door  was  opened,  and  the  gardener,  a  tall  thin  fellow,  appeared 
holding  his  cap  in  his  hand.  Nana  tried  to  look  dignified,  for  the 
driver  already  seemed  to  be  laughing  inwardly,  though  his  lips 
were  tightly  compressed  together.  She  restrained  herself  from 
running,  and  listened  to  the  gardener,  a  very  talkative  one  by  the 
way,  who  begged  madame  to  excuse  the  place  being  a  little  un- 
tidy, as  he  had  only  received  her  letter  that  very  morning;  but, 
in  spite  of  her  efforts,  she  seemed  to  be  lifted  from  the  earth,  and 
walked  so  fast  that  Zoe  could  not  keep  up  with  her.  At  the  end 

£145:1 


NANA 

of  the  path  she  stopped  for  an  instant  to  take  a  look  at  the  house. 
It  was  a  large  building  in  the  Italian  style,  flanked  by  a  smaller 
structure,  and  had  been  erected  by  a  rich  Englishman  who  had 
resided  for  two  years  at  Naples;  he  had,  however,  soon  taken  a 
dislike  to  it. 

"I  will  show  madame  over  the  premises,"  said  the  gardener. 

But  Nana,  who  was  some  distance  ahead,  called  to  him  not 
to  trouble  himself,  she  would  look  at  everything  by  herself,  she 
preferred  that;  and,  without  taking  off  her  bonnet,  she  ran  about 
the  rooms,  calling  to  Zoe,  giving  her  opinion  about  everything, 
and  filling  with  her  shouts  and  her  laughter  the  vacuum  of  that 
house  which  had  remained  uninhabited  for  so  many  long  months. 
First,  there  was  the  hall;  it  was  rather  damp,  but  that  did  not 
matter,  no  one  would  have  to  sleep  there.  Then  the  drawing- 
room,  which  was  splendid  with  its  large  windows  opening  on  to 
the  lawn;  only,  the  red-covered  furniture  was  frightful,  she  would 
have  it  altered.  As  for  the  dining-room,  it  was  simply  magni- 
ficent. And  what  parties  one  could  give  at  Paris  if  one  only  had 
a  dining-room  of  that  size!  As  she  was  going  up  to  the  first 
floor  she  recollected  that  she  had  not  seen  the  kitchen;  she  went 
down  again,  uttering  all  kinds  of  exclamations,  and  Zoe  had  to 
admire  the  beauty  of  the  sink  and  the  magnitude  of  the  fire-place, 
which  was  large  enough  to  roast  a  sheep.  When  she  had  gone  up- 
stairs again,  her  bedroom  especially  enraptured  her  —  it  had  been 
hung  with  pale  rose-coloured  cretonne,  style  of  Louis  XVI.,  by 
an  upholsterer  from  Orleans.  Well,  one  ought  to  sleep  well  in 
there,  it  was  quite  a  school-girls'  nest!  There  were  also  four  or 
five  other  bed-rooms  for  guests,  and  some  magnificent  attics, 
which  would  be  very  useful  for  the  trunks.  Zoe,  looking  very 
sulky,  just  glanced  coldly  into  each  room,  and  kept  a  long  way 
behind  madame.  She  watched  her  disappear  at  the  top  of  the 
steep  ladder  which  led  to  the  roof.  Thank  you  for  nothing!  she 
didn't  want  to  break  her  legs.  But  the  sound  of  a  voice  reached 
her  from  afar  off,  as  though  coming  down  a  chimney. 

"Zoe!  Zoe!  where  are  you?  come  up  here!  Oh,  you've  no  idea 
—  it's  like  fairy-land!" 

Zoe  ascended  the  ladder,  grumbling  the  while.  She  saw  madame 
on  the  roof,  leaning  against  the  brick  balustrade,  and  looking 
down  upon  the  valley  which  extended  into  the  distance.  The 
horizon  was  immense,  but  it  was  half  hidden  by  a  grey  mist, 

CI463 


NANA 

whilst  a  high  wind  drove  away  the  fine  drops  of  rain.  Nana 
was  obliged  to  hold  her  bonnet  with  both  hands  to  prevent  it 
blowing  off,  and  her  skirts  flapped  about  like  the  snapping  of  a 
flag. 

"Ah!  no  indeed!"  said  Zoe,  bringing  her  head  in  at  once. 
"Madame  will  be  blown  away.  What  awful  weather!" 

Madame  did  not  hear.  With  her  head  bent  forward,  she  was 
examining  the  grounds  beneath  her.  There  were  seven  or  eight 
acres,  all  walled  in.  Then  the  view  of  the  kitchen  garden  quite 
fascinated  her.  She  hurried  inside  again,  and  rushed  past  the 
maid  on  the  stairs,  exclaiming: 

"It's  full  of  cabbages!  Oh!  cabbages  as  big  as  that!  And 
lettuce,  and  sorrel,  and  onions,  and  everything!  Come  quick!" 

The  rain  was  falling  faster.  She  opened  her  white  silk  parasol, 
and  ran  along  the  paths. 

"Madame  will  be  ill!"  cried  Zoe,  who  quietly  remained  stand- 
ing beneath  the  verandah. 

But  madame  wished  to  see  everything.  Each  fresh  discovery 
brought  more  exclamations.  "Zoe,  here's  some  spinach!  Come 
and  see!  Oh!  artichokes!  —  they  do  look  funny.  They  flower 
then,  do  they?  I  say!  whatever's  this?  I  don't  know  it  at  all. 
Come  and  see,  Zoe;  perhaps  you  know?" 

But  the  maid  did  not  stir.  Madame  must  really  be  mad.  It 
was  now  pouring  in  torrents.  The  little  white  silk  parasol  already 
looked  quite  black,  and  did  not  cover  madame,  whose  skirt  was 
sopping.  But  this  did  not  worry  her.  In  spite  of  the  rain  she 
inspected  both  the  kitchen  and  fruit  gardens,  stopping  at  each 
tree,  and  leaning  over  each  bed  of  vegetables.  Then  she  ran 
and  gave  a  look  down  the  well,  raised  a  frame  to  see  what  was 
underneath,  and  became  quite  absorbed  in  the  contemplation  of 
an  enormous  pumpkin.  Her  business  was  to  go  along  every  path, 
to  take  immediate  possession  of  all  these  things,  of  which  she 
used  to  dream  when  she  dragged  her  work-girl's  shoes  along  the 
streets  of  Paris.  The  rain  fell  faster  still,  but  she  did  not  notice  it, 
and  only  regretted  that  the  night  was  coming  on  apace.  She 
could  no  longer  see  plainly,  so  she  felt  with  her  hands  whenever  she 
had  a  doubt.  All  of  a  sudden,  in  the  twilight,  she  discovered  some 
strawberries.  Then  her  childhood  seemed  to  return  to  her. 

"Strawberries!  strawberries!  There  are  some,  I  feel  them! 
Zoe,  a  plate!  Come  and  gather  some  strawberries." 


NANA 

And  Nana,  who  had  stooped  down  in  the  mud,  let  go  of  her 
parasol,  and  received  the  full  force  of  the  shower.  With  her 
hands  all  wet,  she  gathered  the  strawberries  among  the  leaves. 
Zoe,  however,  did  not  bring  the  plate.  As  the  young  woman 
got  up,  she  had  a  fright.  She  thought  she  had  noticed  something 
move. 

"An  animal!"  she  cried;  but  astonishment  rooted  her  to  the 
centre  of  the  path.  It  was  a  man,  and  she  had  recognised  him. 

"Why!  it's  baby!     Whatever  are  you  doing  there,  baby?" 

"I've  come,  of  course!"  replied  George. 

She  remained  lost  in  suprise.  "Did  you  then  hear  from  the 
gardener  of  my  arrival?  Oh!  the  child!  He  is  soaked!" 

"Ah!  I  must  tell  you.  It  began  to  rain  after  I  started,  and 
then  I  didn't  want  to  go  round  by  Gumieres,  and  in  crossing  the 
Choue,  I  slipped  and  fell  into  a  confounded  pool." 

Nana  at  once  forgot  the  strawberries.  She  was  all  trembling, 
and  full  of  pity.  That  poor  Zizi  in  a  pool  of  water!  She  dragged 
him  towards  the  house.  She  talked  of  making  up  a  big  fire. 

"You  know,"  he  murmured,  stopping  her  in  the  darkness, 
"  I  was  hiding,  because  I  was  afraid  of  being  scolded  like  at  Paris, 
when  I  came  to  see  you  without  being  expected." 

She  began  to  laugh  without  answering,  and  kissed  him  on  the 
forehead.  Until  that  day  she  had  treated  him  like  a  child,  not 
thinking  seriously  of  his  declarations,  and  amusing  herself  with 
him  as  with  a  youngster  of  no  consequence.  She  made  a  great 
deal  of  fuss  so  that  he  should  be  comfortable.  She  insisted  on  the 
fire  lighted  in  her  bed-room.  They  would  be  more  cozy  there. 
The  sight  of  George  did  not  surprise  Zoe,  used  to  all  sorts  of  meet- 
ings; but  the  gardener,  who  brought  up  some  wood,  was  struck 
dumb  on  seeing  the  gentleman  dripping  with  water,  to  whom  he 
was  certain  he  had  not  opened  the  door.  He  was  sent  away,  as 
nothing  more  was  required.  A  lamp  lighted  the  room,  whilst 
the  fire  burst  into  a  bright  blaze. 

"He  will  never  become  dry,  he  will  catch  cold,"  said  Nana, 
seeing  George  shiver. 

And  not  another  pair  of  trousers  in  the  house !  She  was  on  the 
point  of  calling  the  gardener,  when  an  idea  struck  her.  Zoe,  who 
had  been  unpacking  the  trunks  in  the  dressing-room,  brought 
madame  some  clean  clothes  for  her  to  change  —  a  chemise,  some 
petticoats,  and  a  dressing-gown. 

CI483 


NANA 

"But  that's  capital!"  exclaimed  the  young  woman,  "Zizi  can 
put  on  these.  Eh!  you  don't  mind  putting  on  my  things?  When 
your  own  clothes  are  dry  you  can  put  them  on  again,  and  then 
hurry  back  home,  so  as  not  to  be  scolded  by  your  mamma.  Be 
quick,  and  I  will  go  and  change  my  things  in  the  dressing-room." 

When,  ten  minutes  later,  she  reappeared  in  a  dressing-gown, 
she  clasped  her  hands  in  rapture. 

"Oh,  the  love!  how  pretty  he  looks  as  a  woman!" 

He  had  merely  put  on  a  long  night-dress,  an  embroidered  pair 
of  drawers,  and  a  cambric  dressing-gown  trimmed  with  lace.  In 
those  clothes  he  looked  like  a  girl,  with  his  fair  arms  uncovered, 
and  his  light  hair,  still  wet,  hanging  down  his  neck. 

"He  is  really  as  slim  as  I  am!"  said  Nana,  taking  hold  of  him 
round  the  waist.  "Zoe,  come  and  see  how  well  they  fit  him. 
Eh !  don't  they  look  as  though  they  were  made  for  him?  all  except 
the  body  part,  which  is  too  broad.  He  hasn't  as  much  as  I  have, 
poor  Zizi." 

"There  certainly  is  a  slight  difference,"  murmured  George, 
smiling. 

All  three  were  highly  amused.  Nana  buttoned  the  dressing- 
gown  all  down  the  front  so  that  he  should  look  decent.  She 
turned  him  about  like  a  doll,  gave  him  little  taps,  and  made  the 
skirt  swell  out  behind.  And  she  questioned  him,  asking  him  if 
he  was  comfortable,  and  if  he  was  warm  enough.  Oh,  yes!  he 
was  all  right.  Nothing  was  warmer  than  a  woman's  night-dress; 
if  he  had  had  his  way  he  would  always  have  worn  one.  He  rolled 
himself  about  in  it,  pleased  with  the  soft  touch  of  the  linen,  with 
that  loose  garment  that  smelt  so  nice,  and  which  to  him  seemed 
slightly  impregnated  with  the  warmth  of  Nana's  body.  Zoe  had 
taken  his  wet  clothes  down  to  the  kitchen,  so  as  to  dry  them  as 
quickly  as  possible  before  a  large  wood  fire.  Then  George,  stretched 
out  in  an  easy  chair,  dared  to  make  an  avowal. 

"I  say,  aren't  you  going  to  have  anything  to  eat  to-night? 
I'm  famishing.  I  haven't  had  any  dinner." 

Nana  was  very  angry.  What  a  great  stupid  he  was  to  run  away 
from  his  mamma  with  an  empty  stomach,  just  to  go  and  throw 
himself  into  a  pool  of  water!  But  she  also  felt  rather  hungry. 
Of  course  they  must  have  something  to  eat,  only  they  would 
have  to  do  the  best  they  could.  And  they  improvised  the  funniest 
dinner  ever  heard  of,  on  a  little  table  drawn  up  before  the  fire. 

C  1493 


NANA 

Zoe  ran  over  to  the  gardener,  who  had  made  some  cabbage  soup 
in  case  madame  did  not  dine  at  Orleans.  Madame  had  forgotten 
to  mention  in  her  letter  what  she  required  to  be  got  ready.  For- 
tunately the  cellar  was  well-stocked.  They  had,  therefore,  some 
cabbage  soup,  with  a  piece  of  bacon.  Then,  looking  in  her  bag, 
Nana  produced  all  sorts  of  things  which  she  had  taken  the  pre- 
caution to  provide:  a  little  goose  liver  pasty,  a  packet  of  sweets, 
some  oranges.  They  both  ate  like  ogres,  with  the  appetite  of 
youth,  and,  like  comrades,  without  ceremony.  Nana  called 
George  "my  dear,"  she  thought  it  more  familiar  and  loving. 
For  dessert  they  devoured  a  pot  of  jam,  discovered  on  the  top 
shelf  of  a  cupboard,  both  eating  in  turn  with  the  same  spoon  so 
as  not  to  disturb  Zoe. 

"Ah,  my  dear!"  said  Nana,  as  she  pushed  the  little  table  on 
one  side,  "for  ten  years  I  haven't  dined  so  well." 

It  was  getting  late,  however,  and  she  wished  to  send  the  young- 
ster home  so  as  not  to  bring  him  into  trouble.  He  kept  repeating 
that  he  had  plenty  of  time;  besides,  the  clothes  were  not  drying 
well  —  Zoe  declared  that  they  would  take  at  least  an  hour  longer, 
and  as  she  was  every  minute  falling  asleep,  being  tired  out  by  the 
journey,  they  sent  her  off  to  bed.  Then  they  were  left  alone  in 
the  silent  house.  It  was  a  calm,  pleasant  night.  The  fire  was 
burning  low,  and  the  heat  was  rather  stifling  in  the  big  room, 
the  bed  of  which  Zoe  had  made  before  leaving.  Nana,  feeling 
too  warm,  rose  to  open  the  window  for  a  minute.  But  she  uttered 
a  faint  cry. 

"Heavens!  how  lovely  it  is!  Look,  my  dear." 

George  joined  her,  and,  as  though  the  window-rail  was  not  long 
enough  for  two,  he  put  his  arm  round  Nana's  waist  and  rested  his 
head  on  her  shoulder.  The  weather  had  suddenly  changed,  the 
sky  was  perfectly  clear  and  studded  with  stars,  whilst  a  full  moon 
lit  up  the  country  with  a  sheet  of  gold.  A  sovereign  peaceful- 
ness  hung  over  all,  the  valley  widened  and  opened  on  to  the  im- 
mensity of  the  plain,  where  the  trees  cast  shadows  that  looked 
like  islands  in  the  motionless  lake  of  light.  And  Nana  was  deeply 
moved  and  felt  like  a  child  again.  She  was  sure  she  had  dreamt 
of  such  nights  at  an  epoch  of  her  life  which  she  could  no  longer 
recall.  All  that  she  had  seen  since  she  left  the  train,  this  vast 
expanse  of  fields,  this  grass  that  smelt  so  nice,  this  house,  these 
vegetables,  all  these  upset  her  to  such  an  extent,  that  it  seemed 

CI50: 


NANA 

as  though  she  had  left  Paris  fully  twenty  years  before.  Her 
existence  of  the  previous  day  was  already  far  away.  She  felt 
as  she  had  never  previously  felt.  George,  all  this  while,  was  slyly 
kissing  her  on  the  neck,  which  increased  her  perturbation.  With 
a  hesitating  hand  she  repelled  him  as  one  would  a  child  when 
wearied  by  its  caresses,  and  she  repeated  that  it  was  time  for 
him  to  go  home.  He  did  not  say  "no,"  by-and-by,  he  would 
leave  by-and-by.  But  a  bird  began  to  sing,  then  stopped.  It 
was  a  robin,  in  an  elder  bush  under  the  window. 

"Wait  a  minute,"  murmured  George,  "the  lamp-light  frightens 
him,  I  will  put  it  out."  And,  when  he  came  back,  again  placing 
his  arm  around  Nana's  waist,  he  added,  "We  can  light  it  again 
directly." 

Then,  as  she  listened  to  the  robin,  whilst  the  boy  pressed  close 
against  her,  Nana  recollected.  Yes,  it  was  in  novels  that  she  had 
seen  all  that.  Once,  in  the  days  gone  by,  she  would  have  given 
her  heart  to  have  seen  the  moon  thus,  to  have  heard  the  robin 
and  to  have  had  a  little  fellow  full  of  love  by  her  side.  Oh,  heaven! 
she  could  have  cried,  it  all  seemed  to  her  so  lovely  and  good! 
For  certain  she  was  born  to  live  a  virtuous  life.  She  again  repelled 
George,  who  was  becoming  bolder. 

"No,  leave  me,  I  won't.  It  would  be  very  wrong  at  your  age. 
Listen,  I  will  be  your  mamma." 

She  had  become  quite  bashful;  her  face  was  flushing  scarlet. 
Yet  no  one  could  see  her.  The  room  behind  them  was  full  of  the 
darkness  of  night,  whilst  as  far  as  the  eye  could  reach  the  country- 
side unfolded  the  silence  and  immobility  of  its  solitude.  Never 
before  had  she  felt  such  shame.  Little  by  little  her  strength  seemed 
to  leave  her  in  spite  of  her  constraint  and  her  struggles.  That 
disguise,  that  woman's  night-dress  and  that  dressing-gown,  made 
her  laugh  still.  It  was  like  a  girl  friend  teasing  her. 

"Oh!  it  is  wrong,  it  is  wrong,"  murmured  she,  after  a  last 
effort;  and  she  fell  like  a  virgin  into  the  child's  arms,  in  the 
face  of  the  beautiful  night.  The  house  was  hushed  in  sleep. 

On  the  morrow,  when  the  luncheon  bell  rang  at  Les  Fondettes, 
the  table  in  the  dining-room  was  no  longer  too  large.  A  first 
vehicle  had  brought  Fauchery  and  Daguenet,  and  after  them 
came  the  Count  de  Vandeuvres,  who  had  arrived  by  a  later  train. 
George  made  his  appearance  the  last,  looking  rather  pale  and 
heavy  about  the  eyes.  In  answer  to  all  inquiries  he  replied  that 


NANA 

he  was  much  better,  although  still  upset  by  the  violence  of  the 
attack.  Madame  Hugon,  who  looked  into  his  face  with  an  anxious 
smile,  passed  her  hand  through  his  hair,  which  was  badly  combed 
that  morning,  whilst  he  drew  back  as  though  embarrassed  by 
the  caress.  During  luncheon,  she  affectionately  scolded  Van- 
deuvres,  whom  she  said  she  had  been  expecting  for  five  years  past. 

"Well,  here  you  are  at  last!    How  did  you  manage  it?" 

Vandeuvres  thought  best  to  treat  the  matter  as  a  joke.  He 
related  that  he  had  lost  an  enormous  sum  of  money  the  pre- 
vious evening  at  his  club;  so  he  had  started  off  with  the  idea 
of  settling  down  in  the  provinces. 

"Yes,  really  now,  if  you  can  only  find  me  an  heiress  somewhere 
in  the  neighbourhood.  There  must  be  some  very  charming  ladies 
about  here." 

The  old  lady  was  thanking  both  Daguenet  and  Fauchery  for 
having  so  kindly  accepted  her  son's  invitation,  when  she  experi- 
enced another  pleasant  surprise  on  seeing  the  Marquis  de  Chouard, 
who  had  just  arrived  in  a  third  vehicle,  enter  the  room. 

"Ah!"  she  exclaimed,  "it  must  be  a  general  meeting  this 
morning.  You  have  all  arranged  to  assemble  here.  Whatever 
has  happened?  For  years  past  I  have  never  been  able  to  get  you 
to  come,  and  now  you  all  arrive  together.  Oh!  but  I  am  not  com- 
plaining." 

Another  place  was  laid  at  the  table.  Fauchery  found  himself 
seated  beside  Countess  Sabine,  who  surprised  him  with  her  live- 
liness —  she  whom  he  had  seen  looking  so  languid,  in  the  austere 
drawing-room  of  the  Rue  Miromesnil.  Daguenet,  seated  on 
Estelle's  left,  seemed  uncomfortable  at  being  so  close  to  the  silent, 
lanky  girl,  whose  sharp  elbows  were  his  horror.  Muffat  and  De 
Chouard  exchanged  a  sly  glance.  Vandeuvres  continued  to  joke 
about  his  contemplated  marriage. 

"Respecting  ladies,"  Madame  Hugon  ended  by  saying  to  him, 
"I  have  a  new  neighbour  whom  you  probably  know";  and  she 
mentioned  Nana. 

Vandeuvres  affected  the  utmost  astonishment.  "  What!  Nana's 
country-house  is  near  here?" 

Fauchery  and  Daguenet  also  pretended  to  be  surprised.  The 
Marquis  de  Chouard  devoured  the  breast  of  a  chicken,  without 
appearing  to  understand.  Not  one  of  the  men  had  smiled. 

"Without  doubt,"  resumed  the  old  lady;   "and  what  is  more, 


NANA 

this  person  arrived  last  night  at  La  Mignotte,  as  I  had  expected. 
I  heard  of  it  this  morning  from  the  gardener." 

On  receiving  this  information,  none  of  the  gentlemen  could 
hide  their  genuine  astonishment.  They  all  looked  up.  What! 
Nana  had  arrived!  And  they  were  not  expecting  her  till  the 
morrow;  they  had  thought  they  were  before  her!  George,  alone, 
did  not  raise  his  eyes,  but  looked  at  his  tumbler  in  a  wearied  sort 
of  way.  Ever  since  the  beginning  of  the  meal  he  had  seemed 
asleep  with  his  eyes  open,  and  a  vague  smile  hovered  about  his 
lips. 

"Do  you  still  suffer,  Zizi?"  inquired  his  mother,  who  scarcely 
moved  her  eyes  from  him. 

He  started,  and  blushing,  answered  that  he  was  quite  well 
again;  but  he  still  preserved  the  look  of  a  girl  who  had  been 
dancing  too  much. 

"What  is  the  matter  with  your  neck?"  suddenly  asked  Madame 
Hugon,  in  a  frightened  tone  of  voice.  "  It  is  all  red." 

He  became  confused,  and  could  scarcely  stammer  out  a  reply. 
He  didn't  know;  he  hadn't  anything  the  matter  with  his  neck. 
Then,  pulling  up  his  shirt  collar,  he  added,  "Ah!  yes,  some  insect 
stung  me." 

The  Marquis  de  Chouard  cast  a  sidelong  glance  at  the  red  mark. 
MufFat  also  looked  at  George.  Luncheon  was  drawing  to  an  end, 
and  they  began  to  arrange  some  excursions  in  the  neighbour- 
hood. Fauchery  became  more  and  more  affected  by  Countess 
Sabine's  gaiety.  As  he  passed  a  plate  of  fruit  to  her  their  hands 
touched,  and  she  looked  at  him  for  a  second  with  so  deep  a  gaze 
that  his  thoughts  again  reverted  to  that  confidence  of  which  he 
was  the  recipient  on  a  night  of  intoxication.  Then  she  no  longer 
appeared  the  same.  There  was  something  that  was  more  pro- 
nounced about  her.  Her  grey  silk  dress,  made  loose  at  the  shoul- 
ders, gave  a  sort  of  ease  to  her  refined  and  sensitive  elegance. 

On  leaving  the  table,  Daguenet  remained  behind  with  Fauchery, 
to  make  some  rather  facetious  and  coarse  remarks  about  Estelle. 
"A  pretty  broomstick  to  shove  into  a  fellow's  arms."  However, 
he  became  serious  when  the  journalist  mentioned  the  amount  of 
her  dowry:  four  hundred  thousand  francs. 

"And  the  mother?"  inquired  Fauchery.  "She's  a  fine  woman, 
isn't  she?" 

"Oh!  she  as  much  as  you  like!    But  there's  no  chance,  my  boy!" 


NANA 

"Bah!  one  never  knows  without  trying!" 

No  one  was  going  out  that  day,  as  it  was  still  very  showery. 
George  had  hastily  disappeared  and  locked  himself  in  his  room. 
The  gentlemen  avoided  coming  to  an  explanation  among  them- 
selves, though  they  individually  knew  very  well  what  reasons 
had  brought  them  together.  Vandeuvres,  who  had  lost  heav- 
ily at  play,  had  indeed  entertained  the  idea  of  spending  some 
time  in  the  country,  and  counted  on  the  proximity  of  a  female 
friend  to  reconcile  him  to  his  voluntary  exile.  Fauchery,  taking 
advantage  of  the  holiday  allowed  him  by  Rose,  who  just  then 
was  very  much  occupied,  proposed  to  make  an  arrangement  with 
Nana  for  a  second  article,  in  the  event  of  a  country  life  bringing 
their  hearts  together  again.  Daguenet,  who  had  been  sulky  ever 
since  Steiner  appeared  on  the  scene,  thought  of  making  it  up 
again,  and  of  picking  up  a  few  crumbs  of  love,  should  occasion 
offer.  As  for  the  Marquis  de  Chouard,  he  bided  his  time.  But 
among  all  these  men  on  the  track  of  Venus,  only  half  free  of  her 
paint,  Muffat  was  the  most  ardent,  the  most  tormented  with  new 
sensations  of  desire,  of  fear,  and  of  anger,  which  contended  in 
his  agitated  person.  He  had  a  distinct  promise.  Nana  was  ex- 
pecting him.  Why,  then,  had  she  left  Paris  twro  days  earlier? 
He  determined  to  go  to  La  Mignotte  that  very  night,  after  the 
dinner. 

That  evening,  as  the  count  left  the  grounds,  George  followed 
him.  He  parted  from  him  on  the  road  to  Gumieres,  and,  wading 
across  the  Choue,  arrived  at  Nana's  all  out  of  breath,  his  eyes 
filled  with  tears  of  rage.  Ah!  he  understood.  That  old  fellow 
who  was  on  the  road  had  an  appointment  with  her.  Nana, 
astonished  at  this  display  of  jealousy,  uneasy  at  the  turn  things 
were  taking,  folded  her  arms  around  him,  and  consoled  him  as 
well  as  she  could.  No;  he  was  mistaken.  She  was  not  expecting 
any  one.  If  the  gentleman  was  coming  it  was  not  her  fault.  Zizi 
was  a  great  stupid  to  put  himself  out  so  much  about  nothing  at 
all!  She  swore  by  her  child  that  she  loved  no  one  but  her  George, 
and  she  kissed  him,  and  wiped  away  his  tears. 

"Listen,  you  will  see  that  everything  is  for  you,"  said  she, 
when  he  had  become  calmer.  "  Steiner  has  arrived,  he  is  up- 
stairs. You  know,  my  darling,  I  can't  send  him  away." 

"Yes,  I  know;    I  don't  mind  him,"  murmured  the  youngster. 

"Well,  I  have  put  him  in  the  room  at  the  end  of  the  passage, 

CI543 


NANA 

pretending  that  I  was  not  well.  He  is  unpacking  his  port- 
manteau. As  no  one  saw  you  come  in,  run  up  quick  and  hide 
yourself  in  my  room,  and  wait  for  me." 

George  jumped  up  and  put  his  arms  round  her.  It  was  true, 
then,  she  did  love  him  a  little!  So  it  would  be  yesterday  over 
again?  They  would  turn  out  the  lamp,  and  remain  together  till 
daylight  dispelled  the  darkness.  Then,  hearing  a  bell  ring,  he 
noiselessly  hurried  away.  Upstairs,  in  the  bed-room,  he  at  once 
took  off  his  shoes  so  as  not  to  make  any  noise.  Then  he  hid 
himself,  crouched  upon  the  floor,  behind  a  curtain,  and  waited 
like  a  good  boy. 

When  Count  Muffat  appeared,  Nana  felt  a  slight  awkward- 
ness, having  scarcely  regained  her  composure  after  the  scene 
with  George.  She  had  promised  the  count,  and  she  would  have 
liked  to  have  kept  her  promise,  because  he  seemed  a  man  who 
meant  business.  But,  really,  who  could  ever  have  foreseen  all 
that  had  occurred  the  previous  day?  The  journey,  this  house 
that  she  had  never  known  before,  the  youngster  who  had  arrived 
soaking  wet;  and  how  nice  it  had  all  seemed  to  her,  and  how 
pleasant  a  continuance  of  it  would  be!  So  much  the  worse  for 
the  gentleman!  For  three  months  past  she  had  dallied  with  him, 
playing  the  respectable  woman,  so  as  to  inflame  him  all  the  more. 
Well!  he  would  have  to  wait  a  bit  longer.  He  could  hook  it  if 
it  didn't  please  him.  She  would  rather  chuck  up  everything  than 
be  unfaithful  to  George. 

The  count  had  seated  himself  in  the  ceremonious  way  of  a 
country  neighbour  making  a  call.  His  hands  alone  trembled 
slightly.  In  his  sanguineous  constitution,  still  in  a  state  of  vir- 
ginity, inordinate  desire,  scourged  by  Nana's  skilful  tactics,  was 
at  length  producing  frightful  ravages.  That  grave-looking  man, 
that  chamberlain  who  traversed  with  such  a  dignified  step  the 
gilded  saloons  of  the  Tuileries,  would,  at  night-time,  bite  the 
bolster  on  his  bed  and  sob  aloud,  carried  away  by  his  exasperation, 
and  ever  invoking  the  same  sensual  vision.  But  this  time  he  was 
determined  to  end  his  suffering.  Along  the  road,  in  the  peace- 
ful twilight,  he  had  thought  of  gratifying  his  passion  by  force; 
and  directly  they  had  exchanged  a  few  words,  he  tried  to  take 
Nana  in  his  arms. 

"No,  no,  mind  what  you  are  doing,"  said  she  simply,  without 
getting  angry,  and  smiling  at  him  all  the  time. 


NANA 

At  length  he  caught  her,  his  teeth  firmly  clenched;  then,  as 
she  struggled,  he  became  brutal,  and  coarsely  told  her  why  he 
had  come.  She,  still  smiling,  though  embarrassed,  held  his  hands. 
She  spoke  to  him  lovingly,  so  as  to  make  her  refusal  seem  less 
harsh. 

"Come,  my  darling,  keep  quiet.  Really,  I  cannot.  Steiner  is 
upstairs." 

But  he  was  mad;  never  before  had  she  seen  a  man  in  such  a 
state.  She  began  to  feel  frightened.  She  placed  her  hand  over 
his  mouth  to  hush  the  cries  he  uttered,  and,  lowering  her  voice, 
she  begged  him  to  keep  quiet,  to  let  her  go.  Steiner  was  de- 
scending the  stairs.  Her  position  had  become  ridiculous!  When 
Steiner  entered  the  room,  he  heard  Nana,  who  was  comfortably 
stretched  out  in  an  easy  chair,  saying, 

"As  for  myself,  I  adore  the  country." 

Turning  her  head,  she  interrupted  herself,  and  added,  "Darling, 
this  is  Count  Muffat,  who  noticed  the  lights  as  he  was  passing  by, 
and  has  just  called  in  to  bid  us  welcome." 

The  two  men  shook  hands.  Muffat  stood  an  instant  without 
speaking,  his  face  in  shadow.  Steiner  seemed  sulky.  They 
talked  of  Paris;  business  was  very  bad,  and  some  most  abomina- 
ble things  had  occured  on  the  Bourse.  At  the  end  of  a  quarter 
of  an  hour,  Muffat  took  his  leave.  And  as  the  young  woman 
accompanied  him  to  the  door,  he  asked,  without  obtaining  it, 
an  appointment  for  the  following  evening.  Steiner,  almost  im- 
mediately, went  off  to  bed,  grumbling  against  the  ailments  that 
were  always  affecting  the  female  sex.  At  last,  the  two  old  fellows 
were  got  rid  of!  When  Nana  was  at  length  able  to  rejoin  George, 
she  found  him  still  patiently  waiting  behind  his  curtain.  The 
room  was  in  darkness.  He  had  drawn  her  down  on  the  floor 
beside  him,  and  they  played  together,  rolling  about  like  children, 
stopping  every  now  and  then,  and  smothering  their  laughter  with 
kisses,  whenever  their  feet  knocked  against  any  of  the  furniture. 
Afar  off,  on  the  Gumieres  road,  Count  Muffat  was  walking  slowly 
along,  holding  his  hat  in  his  hand,  and  cooling  his  heated  brow 
in  the  fresh  night  air. 

Then,  the  following  days,  their  life  was  adorable.  In  the  young- 
ster's company,  Nana  seemed  once  more  a  girl  of  fifteen.  Beneath 
the  child's  caresses,  the  flower  of  love  bloomed  again,  in  spite  of 
her  knowledge  of  man,  and  the  loathing  it  caused  her.  She 


NANA 

found  herself  constantly  blushing,  she  experienced  an  emotion 
that  made  her  shiver,  an  inclination  to  laugh  and  cry,  in  short  all 
the  feelings  of  an  awakened  virginity  added  to  desires  of  which 
she  was  ashamed.  She  had  never  felt  thus  before.  The  country 
filled  her  with  tenderness.  When  a  young  child,  she  had  for  a 
long  time  desired  to  live  in  a  meadow  with  a  goat,  because  one 
day,  on  the  slope  of  the  fortifications,  she  had  seen  a  goat  bleating, 
fastened  to  a  stake.  Now,  this  estate,  all  this  land  belonged  to 
her,  swelled  her  with  an  overflowing  emotion,  so  much  were  her 
wildest  dreams  more  than  realised.  She  again  experienced  all 
the  sensations  of  a  child;  and  at  night-time,  when  dizzy  from  a 
day  spent  in  the  open  air,  intoxicated  with  the  odour  of  the  trees 
and  flowers,  she  went  upstairs  to  rejoin  her  Zizi,  hidden  behind 
the  curtain,  it  seemed  to  her  like  a  freak  of  a  school-girl  home  for 
the  holidays,  a  love  passage  with  a  cousin  whom  she  was  evidently 
to  marry.  She  trembled  at  the  least  sound,  as  though  afraid  of 
being  caught  by  her  parents;  she  tasted  all  the  delicious  embarrass- 
ments, all  the  voluptuous  fears  of  a  first  fault. 

At  this  time,  Nana  indulged  in  the  fancies  of  a  sentimental 
girl.  She  would  look  at  the  moon  for  hours.  One  night,  she  in- 
sisted on  going  down  into  the  garden  with  George,  when  all  the 
household  was  asleep;  and  they  wandered  about  under  the  trees, 
their  arms  round  each  other's  waists,  then  they  lay  down  on  the 
grass  and  got  thoroughly  soaked  with  the  dew.  Another  time, 
in  the  bed-room,  after  a  rather  long  pause,  Nana  sobbed  on  the 
youngster's  neck,  murmuring  she  was  afraid  she  was  going  to  die. 
She  often  sang  in  a  low  voice  a  ballad  of  Madame  Lerat's,  full 
of  flowers  and  birds,  becoming  affected  even  to  tears,  and  interrupt- 
ing herself  to  clasp  George  in  a  passionate  embrace  and  cause  him 
to  utter  vows  of  eternal  love.  In  short,  she  behaved  very  foolishly 
as  she  herself  would  often  admit,  when,  becoming  comrades  again, 
they  both  smoked  cigarettes  seated  on  the  edge  of  the  bedstead, 
their  heels  knocking  against  the  wood-work. 

But  what  caused  the  young  woman's  heart  completely  to  melt 
was  the  arrival  of  little  Louis.  Her  attack  of  maternal  love 
bordered  on  madness.  She  carried  her  son  into  the  sunshine  to 
see  him  sprawl  about;  she  rolled  with  him  over  the  grass,  after 
dressing  him  like  a  prince.  She  at  once  insisted  that  he  should 
sleep  near  her,  in  the  next  room,  where  Madame  Lerat,  very  much 
smitten  with  the  country,  commenced  to  snore  as  soon  as  she 

[1573 


NANA 

was  lying  on  her  back.  And  little  Louis  did  not  in  the  least  inter- 
fere with  her  love  for  Zizi;  on  the  contrary.  She  said  that  she 
had  two  children;  she  confounded  them  in  the  same  caprice  of 
affection.  During  the  night,  on  more  than  ten  occasions,  she 
quitted  Zizi  to  go  and  see  if  little  Louis  was  breathing  all  right; 
but  when  she  returned  she  cuddled  her  Zizi  with  the  remains  of 
her  maternal  caresses.  She  acted  the  mamma  towards  him; 
whilst  he,  vicious  youngster!  liking  very  much  to  be  little  in  the 
arms  of  that  big  girl,  let  her  nurse  him  like  a  baby  being  rocked 
to  sleep.  It  was  so  nice  that,  charmed  with  this  existence,  she 
seriously  proposed  to  him  that  they  should  never  again  leave  the 
country.  They  would  send  every  one  away,  and  live  alone  together 
—  he,  she,  and  the  baby.  And  they  built  a  thousand  castles  in 
the  air  until  daybreak,  without  hearing  Madame  Lerat,  who, 
tired  out  with  gathering  wild  flowers,  snored  loud  enough  to  waken 
the  whole  household. 

This  fine  life  lasted  for  nearly  a  week.  Count  Muff  at  came 
every  night,  and  went  back  home  with  swollen  features  and  hot, 
feverish  hands.  One  night  he  was  not  even  admitted,  Steiner 
having  been  obliged  to  go  to  Paris.  He  was  told  that  madame 
was  very  unwell.  Each  day  Nana  revolted  more  and  more  at 
the  idea  of  being  unfaithful  to  George,  so  young  and  so  innocent, 
and  who  had  put  his  faith  in  her!  She  would  have  considered 
herself  the  most  worthless  of  women.  Besides,  it  would  have 
disgusted  her  too  much.  Zoe,  who  assisted  at  this  adventure 
with  silent  disdain,  thought  that  madame  was  becoming  cracked. 

All  on  a  sudden,  on  the  sixth  day,  a  band  of  visitors  broke  in 
upon  this  idyllic  existence.  Nana  had  invited  a  number  of  people, 
thinking  that  no  one  would  come.  So  she  was  very  much  astounded 
and  very  much  vexed,  one  afternoon,  on  seeing  an  omnibus 
full  of  men  and  women  draw  up  in  front  of  the  iron  gates  of  La 
Mignotte. 

"Here  we  are!"  cried  Mignon,  the  first  to  alight  from  the 
vehicle,  from  which  he  extricated  his  sons,  Henri  and  Charles. 

Labordette  appeared  next,  and  immediately  assisted  a  number 
of  ladies  to  descend  —  Lucy  Stewart,  Caroline  Hequet,  Tatan 
Nene,  Maria  Blond.  Nana  was  hoping  that  that  was  the  end, 
when  La  Faloise  jumped  out,  to  receive  into  his  trembling  arms 
Gaga  and  her  daughter  Amelie.  That  made  eleven  persons.  It 
was  difficult  to  find  room  for  them  all.  At  La  Mignotte  there 


NANA 

were  five  guest  chambers,  one  of  which  was  occupied  by  Madame 
Lerat  and  little  Louis.  The  largest  bedroom  was  given  to  the 
Gaga  and  La  Faloise  family,  and  it  was  decided  that  Amelie 
should  sleep  on  a  camp-bedstead  in  the  dressing-room  adjoining. 
Mignon  and  his  two  sons  had  the  third  bedroom;  Labordette 
the  fourth.  There  still  remained  one,  which  was  turned  into  a 
dormitory,  with  four  beds  for  Lucy,  Caroline,  Tatan,  and  Maria. 
As  for  Steiner,  he  would  have  to  sleep  on  the  sofa  in  the  drawing- 
room.  After  the  lapse  of  an  hour,  when  everything  was  settled, 
Nana,  who  first  of  all  had  felt  furious,  was  delighted  at  doing 
the  honours  of  her  country  abode.  The  ladies  complimented  her 
on  La  Mignotte  —  a  most  enchanting  place,  my  dear!  Then  they 
brought  her  a  puff  of  Paris  air,  the  little  scandals  of  the  week. 
They  all  spoke  at  once,  with  sundry  little  taps,  and  exclamations, 
and  bursts  of  laughter.  And  Bordenave!  by  the  way,  what  had 
he  said  of  her  little  escapade?  Why  nothing  much.  After  bellow- 
ing out  that  he  would  have  her  brought  back  by  the  gendarmes, 
when  the  evening  came  he  merely  filled  her  place  with  the  under- 
study; and  she,  little  Violaine,  had  scored  a  great  success  in  the 
"Blonde  Venus."  This  piece  of  news  made  Nana  serious.  It 
was  only  four  o'clock.  They  began  to  talk  of  going  for  a  stroll. 

"You  don't  know,"  said  Nana,  "I  was  about  to  get  some  pota- 
toes when  you  arrived." 

So  they  all  wanted  to  go  and  pick  up  potatoes,  without  even 
changing  their  clothes.  They  made  quite  a  party.  The  gardener 
and  two  lads  were  already  in  the  field,  at  the  extreme  end  of  the 
estate.  The  ladies  knelt  down  on  the  ground,  feeling  in  the  earth 
with  their  fingers  covered  with  rings,  crying  out  every  time  they 
discovered  a  potato  of  any  size.  They  thought  it  all  so  amusing! 
But  Tatan  Nene  was  in  her  element.  She  had  picked  up  so  many 
in  her  younger  days,  that  she  so  far  forgot  herself  as  to  give  the 
others  the  benefit  of  her  experience  and  to  ridicule  their  awkward- 
ness. The  gentlemen  took  it  more  coolly.  Mignon,  looking  a 
very  worthy  man,  profited  by  his  stay  in  the  country  to  complete 
his  sons'  education.  He  talked  to  them  of  Parmentier,  the  in- 
troducer of  the  potato  into  France.  In  the  evening  the  dinner 
was  madly  gay.  Every  one  had  an  enormous  appetite.  Nana, 
very  far  gone,  had  a  row  with  her  butler,  who  had  been  at  the 
Bishop  of  Orleans'.  The  ladies  smoked  with  their  coffee.  Sounds 
of  feasting  and  revelry  issued  through  the  windows,  and  were 

£159:1 


NANA 

lost  in  the  distance,  in  the  serenity  of  the  night;  whilst  between 
the  hedges  the  belated  peasants  turned  their  heads  and  looked 
at  the  house  blazing  with  light. 

"What  a  nuisance  it  is  you  are  all  going  away  again  the  day 
after  to-morrow,"  observed  Nana.  "We  must  arrange  some 
excursion  whilst  you  are  here." 

So  it  was  settled  that  on  the  morrow,  a  Sunday,  they  should 
all  go  and  visit  the  ruins  of  the  ancient  abbey  of  Chamont,  which 
was  situated  about  seven  miles  off.  Five  carriages  were  to  come 
from  Orleans  to  take  the  party  after  luncheon,  and  bring  them 
back  to  dine  at  La  Mignotte,  towards  seven  o'clock  in  the  evening. 
It  would  be  delightful. 

That  night,  as  usual,  Count  MufFat  ascended  the  hill  to  ring 
the  bell  at  the  iron  gates.  But  the  lights  in  the  windows,  the 
loud  laughter  surprised  him.  Recognising  Mignon's  voice  he 
understood  it  all,  and  went  away  enraged  by  this  new  obstacle, 
driven  to  extremities,  determined  to  use  violence.  George,  who 
entered  by  a  little  side-door  of  which  he  had  a  key,  quietly  ascended 
to  Nana's  bed-room,  keeping  close  to  the  walls.  Only  he  had  to 
wait  for  her  until  past  midnight.  She  came  at  last,  very  tipsy, 
and  more  maternal  even  than  on  the  other  nights.  When  she  drank 
it  made  her  so  loving  that  there  was  rather  too  much  of  it.  Thus, 
she  insisted  on  George's  accompanying  her  to  the  abbey  of  Chamont. 
He  resisted,  afraid  of  being  seen :  if  he  was  noticed  in  a  carriage 
with  her  it  would  cause  a  frightful  scandal.  But  she  burst  into 
tears,  seized  with  the  noisy  despair  of  a  discarded  woman,  and 
he  consoled  her,  and  faithfully  promised  to  be  one  of  the 
party. 

"Then  you  do  really  love  me?"  she  stuttered.  "Say  that  you 
love  me  a  lot.  Tell  me,  my  own  darling,  if  I  died,  would  you  be 
very  unhappy?" 

At  Les  Fondettes,  Nana's  proximity  upset  the  whole  house- 
hold. Every  morning,  during  luncheon,  worthy  Madame  Hugon 
talked  in  spite  of  herself  about  that  woman,  relating  all  that  her 
gardener  had  told  her,  experiencing  that  kind  of  witchery  exercised 
by  gay  women  over  the  most  respectable  ladies.  She,  usually 
so  tolerant,  felt  indignant  and  exasperated,  with  the  vague  presenti- 
ment of  some  misfortune,  which  alarmed  her  at  eventide,  as  though 
she  had  known  of  the  presence  in  the  neighbourhood  of  a  wild 
beast  escaped  from  some  menagerie.  And  she  squabbled  with  her 


NAN  A 

guests,  accusing  them  all  of  wandering  round  about  La  Mignotte. 
Count  de  Vandeuvres  had  been  seen  laughing  on  the  high  road 
with  a  lady  wearing  a  large  quantity  of  hair;  but  he  defended  him- 
self, swore  that  it  wasn't  Nana,  for  indeed  it  was  Lucy  who  accom- 
panied him  for  the  purpose  of  telling  him  how  she  had  just  sent 
her  third  prince  to  the  right  about.  The  Marquis  de  Chouard 
went  also  for  long  walks  every  day;  but  he  began  to  talk  at 
once  of  his  doctor's  directions.  As  for  Daguenet  and  Fauchery, 
Madame  Hugon  treated  them  very  unjustly.  The  first,  especially, 
never  went  outside  the  grounds  of  Les  Fondettes,  having  aban- 
doned his  intention  of  seeking  to  renew  his  intimate  acquaintance 
with  Nana,  and  making  himself  respectfully  assiduous  towards 
Estelle.  Fauchery  also  remained  with  the  Muffat  ladies.  On 
one  occasion  only  he  had  come  across  Mignon  in  a  lane,  his  hands 
full  of  flowers,  and  giving  a  lesson  in  botany  to  his  sons.  The  two 
men  had  shaken  hands  and  talked  of  Rose.  She  was  very  well; 
each  of  them  had  received  a  letter  from  her  that  very  morning, 
in  which  she  told  them  to  take  advantage  of  the  country  air  as 
long  as  they  could.  Of  all  her  guests,  therefore,  the  old  lady  only 
spared  Count  Muffat  and  George.  The  count,  who  pretended  he 
had  some  very  important  business  to  attend  to  at  Orleans,  could 
not  be  running  after  girls;  and  as  for  George,  the  poor  child  was 
beginning  to  cause  her  the  greatest  anxiety,  for  every  evening 
he  was  seized  with  the  most  violent  headaches,  which  forced  him 
to  go  to  bed  before  it  was  really  dark. 

Fauchery  had  elected  himself  Countess  Sabine's  cavalier  in 
waiting,  whilst  the  count  disappeared  regularly  every  afternoon. 
Whenever  they  went  about  the  grounds  he  carried  her  parasol 
and  her  campstool.  Besides,  he  amused  her  with  his  journalistic 
gossip,  and  soon  established  between  them  one  of  those  sudden 
intimacies  which  country  life  countenances.  She  appeared  to 
surrender  at  once,  awakened  to  a  second  youth  in  the  society 
of  this  young  man,  whose  noisy,  scoffing  ways  seemed  incapable 
of  compromising  her.  And  sometimes,  when  they  found  them- 
selves alone  for  a  second  behind  some  hedge,  their  eyes  would 
seek  each  other's;  they  would  stop  in  the  midst  of  a  laugh,  abruptly 
serious,  with  a  languishing  look  as  though  they  had  divined  and 
understood  each  other. 

On  the  Friday  it  had  been  necessary  to  lay  another  place  at 
lunch.  M.  Theophile  Venot,  whom  Madame  Hugon  recollected 

C  ISO 


NANA 

having  invited  at  the  Muffats'  the  previous  winter,  had  just 
arrived.  He  put  on  his  most  agreeable  look,  and  affected  the 
indifferent  air  of  an  insignificant  person  without  appearing  to 
notice  the  uneasy  deference  with  which  he  was  treated.  When 
he  had  succeeded  in  making  himself  forgotten,  and  while  crunch- 
ing some  little  pieces  of  sugar  during  dessert,  he  watched  Dague- 
net,  who  was  handing  some  strawberries  to  Estelle,  and  listened 
to  Fauchery,  one  of  whose  anecdotes  seemed  to  amuse  the  countess 
very  much.  The  moment  anyone  looked  at  him  he  smiled  in  his 
quiet  way. 

On  leaving  the  table,  M.  Venot  took  the  count's  arm  and  led  him 
into  the  grounds.  It  was  known  that  he  exercised  a  great  in- 
fluence over  the  count,  ever  since  his  mother's  death.  Most 
singular  stories  were  current  as  to  the  ex-attorney's  domination 
over  the  household.  Fauchery,  whose  plans  were  no  doubt  con- 
siderably interfered  with  by  his  arrival,  related  to  George  and 
Daguenet  the  origin  of  his  fortune  —  a  big  lawsuit  with  which 
the  Jesuits  had  once  intrusted  him;  and,  according  to  him,  this 
little  old  fellow,  who  was  a  terrible  man  in  spite  of  his  pleasant 
looks,  had  now  a  finger  in  every  clerical  pie.  The  two  young 
fellows  began  to  laugh,  for  they  thought  the  old  man  looked  a 
bit  of  an  idiot.  The  idea  of  an  unknown  Venot,  of  a  gigantic 
Venot,  acting  for  the  clergy,  seemed  to  them  most  comical.  But 
they  ceased  talking  as  Count  Muffat,  still  with  the  old  gentle- 
man at  his  side,  returned  looking  very  pale,  and  with  his  eyes  red 
as  though  he  had  been  weeping. 

"They  have,  for  certain,  been  talking  of  hell,"  murmured 
Fauchery  jeeringly. 

Countess  Sabine,  who  had  overheard  him,  slowly  turned  her 
head,  and  their  eyes  met,  with  one  of  those  prolonged  looks 
with  which  they  prudently  sounded  each  other,  before  running 
any  risk. 

Usually,  after  luncheon,  every  one  adjourned  to  the  end  of 
the  flower  garden,  to  a  terrace  which  overlooked  the  plain.  The 
Sunday  afternoon  was  deliciously  mild.  Towards  ten  o'clock 
in  the  morning  it  looked  like  rain ;  but  the  sky,  without  becoming 
perfectly  clear,  had  so  to  say  blended  into  a  milky  kind  of  mist, 
and  a  sort  of  luminous  dust,  all  golden  with  sunshine.  Then 
Madame  Hugon  suggested  that  they  should  go  out  by  the  little 
door  of  the  terrace,  and  take  a  stroll  in  the  direction  of  Gumieres, 


NANA 

as  far  as  the  Choue;  she  liked  walking,  being  still  very  active 
in  spite  of  her  sixty  years.  Every  one,  moreover,  stated  that 
they  would  rather  not  have  the  carriage.  They  arrived  thus, 
rather  disbanded,  at  the  wooden  bridge  thrown  across  the  stream. 
Fauchery  and  Daguenet  were  in  front  with  the  Muffat  ladies; 
the  count  and  the  marquis  came  next,  on  either  side  of  Madame 
Hugon;  whilst  Vandeuvres,  looking  very  stylish,  and  dread- 
fully bored  at  wandering  along  that  high  road,  brought  up  the 
rear,  smoking  a  cigar.  M.  Venot,  slackening  or  hastening  his 
footsteps,  went  smilingly  from  one  group  to  another,  as  though 
to  hear  everything. 

"And  poor  George  is  at  Orleans!"  Madame  Hugon  was  saying. 
"He  wished  to  consult  old  Doctor  Ta vernier,  who  no  longer  goes 
out,  about  his  headaches.  Yes,  you  were  none  of  you  up;  he 
started  before  seven  this  morning.  It  will  be  a  slight  diversion 
for  him,  anyhow."  But  she  interrupted  herself  to  remark,  "Dear 
me!  why  are  they  waiting  on  the  bridge?" 

Truly  enough  the  ladies,  and  Daguenet  and  Fauchery,  were 
standing  at  the  foot  of  the  bridge,  with  hesitating  looks,  as  though 
some  obstacle  caused  them  uneasiness.  The  way  seemed  free, 
however. 

"Straight  on!"  cried  the  count. 

They  did  not  move,  but  remained  watching  something  that  was 
coming  and  which  the  others  could  not  see.  There  was  a  turn  in 
the  road  which  was  bordered  on  either  side  by  poplars.  However, 
a  rumbling  noise,  gradually  increasing,  now  reached  the  entire 
party;  there  was  a  sound  of  wheels,  mixed  with  laughter,  and 
the  cracking  of  whips,  and  suddenly  five  carriages  appeared, 
following  one  after  the  other,  almost  crowded  enough  to  break 
the  axle-trees,  and  enlivened  with  a  mixture  of  light  blue  and 
rose  colour  dresses. 

"Whatever  is  all  this?"  asked  Madame  Hugon  in  surprise. 
Then  she  guessed,  she  seemed  to  divine;  and  indignant  at  such 
and  invasion  crossing  her  path,  she  murmured,  "Oh,  that  woman! 
Walk  on,  do  walk  on.  Pretend  not  to  - 

But  it  was  too  late.  The  five  carriages,  which  were  taking  Nana 
and  her  guests  to  the  ruins  at  Chamont,  were  already  close  to 
the  little  wooden  bridge.  Fauchery,  Daguenet,  and  the  Muffat 
ladies  had  to  step  back,  whilst  Madame  Hugon  and  the  others 
stopped  also,  at  various  distances  along  the  road.  It  was  a  superb 


NANA 

procession.  The  laughing  in  the  carriages  had  ceased;  some  faces 
turned  round  with  curiosity.  Each  party  looked  at  the  other, 
amidst  a  silence  that  was  only  broken  by  the  regular  trot  of  the 
horses.  In  the  first  carriage,  Maria  Blond  and  Tatan  Nene, 
reclining  like  duchesses,  their  skirts  blown  out  over  the  wheels, 
looked  disdainly  at  the  respectable  ladies  on  foot.  In  the  next 
was  Gaga,  who  almost  occupied  an  entire  seat  to  herself,  quite 
burying  La  Faloise,  of  whom  only  the  anxious  nose  could  be  seen. 
Then  came  Caroline  Hequet  with  Labordette,  Lucy  Stewart 
with  Mignon  and  his  sons,  and  at  the  end  of  all,  accompanied  by 
Steiner,  was  Nana,  who  had  on  the  little  seat  in  front  of  her  that 
poor  love  of  a  Zizi,  with  his  knees  touching  hers. 

"It  is  the  last  one,  is  it  not?"  quietly  inquired  the  countess 
of  Fauchery,  affecting  not  to  recognise  Nana. 

The  wheels  of  Nana's  carriage  almost  grazed  her,  but  she  did 
not  move  back  an  inch.  The  two  women  had  exchanged  a  search- 
ing look  —  one  of  those  scrutinising  glances  lasting  but  a  second, 
yet  complete  and  definite.  As  for  the  men,  they  behaved  admir- 
ably. Fauchery  and  Daguenet,  perfectly  impassive,  recognised 
no  one.  The  marquis,  anxious,  and  afraid  of  some  practical  joke 
on  the  part  of  the  girls,  had  plucked  a  blade  of  grass,  which  he 
was  twirling  between  his  fingers.  Vandeuvres  alone,  being  at 
some  little  distance  from  the  others,  just  moved  his  eyelids  by 
way  of  recognising  Lucy,  who  smiled  at  him  as  she  passed. 

"Take  care!"  murmured  M.  Venot,  standing  behind  Count 
Muffat. 

The  latter,  greatly  agitated,  followed  with  his  eyes,  that  vision 
of  Nana,  flying  away  from  him.  His  wife  had  turned  slowly 
round  and  was  examining  him.  Then  he  looked  on  the  ground, 
as  though  to  lose  sight  of  the  galloping  horses,  who  were  carrying 
off  his  flesh  and  his  heart.  His  agony  almost  made  him  cry  aloud. 
He  had  understood  all  on  seeing  George  lost  amongst  Nana's 
skirts.  A  child!  It  broke  his  heart  to  think  that  she  should  have 
preferred  a  child  to  himself!  He  did  not  mind  about  Steiner,  but 
a  child! 

Madame  Hugon,  however,  had  not  recognised  George  at  first. 
On  passing  over  the  bridge  he  would  have  jumped  into  the  stream, 
had  not  Nana's  knees  held  him.  So,  white  as  snow  and  cold  as 
ice,  he  sat  immovable,  looking  at  no  one.  Perhaps  they  would 
not  see  him. 


NANA 

"Ah!  good  heavens!'*  suddenly  exclaimed  the  old  lady,  "it  is 
George  who  is  with  her." 

The  carriages  had  passed  in  the  midst  of  that  uneasiness  felt 
by  persons  who  knew  each  other,  and  who  yet  did  not  bow. 
This  delicate  encounter,  so  rapid  in  reality,  had  seemed  to  last 
an  eternity.  And,  now,  the  wheels  were  gaily  carrying  away  into 
the  sunny  country  those  vehicles  full  of  girls,  with  the  wind  blow- 
ing in  their  faces.  Ribbons  were  flying  about,  the  laughter  com- 
menced again,  and  jokes  passed  from  one  to  another;  whilst 
some  stood  up  and  gazed  back  at  those  highly  respectable  people, 
who  had  remained  stationary  at  the  side  of  the  road,  looking  very 
much  put  out.  Nana,  as  she  glanced  round,  could  see  them  hesi- 
tate, then  retrace  their  steps  without  crossing  the  bridge  at  all. 
Madame  Hugon  was  leaning  on  Count  Muffat's  arm,  silent,  and 
so  sad  that  no  one  dared  console  her. 

"I  say,"  cried  Nana  to  Lucy,  who  was  leaning  out  of  the  car- 
riage in  front  of  hers,  "did  you  notice  Fauchery,  my  dear?  Didn't 
he  look  a  dirty  rip?  He  shall  smart  for  it.  And  Paul,  a  chap  to 
whom  I  have  been  so  kind  —  not  the  least  sign.  Really,  they  are 
polite!" 

Then  she  had  a  frightful  quarrel  with  Steiner,  who  considered 
that  the  gentlemen  had  behaved  admirably.  So  they  were  not 
even  worth  the  raising  of  a  hat?  The  first  blackguard  they  met 
might  insult  them?  Thanks,  he  also  was  a  nice  fellow,  he  was; 
it  only  wanted  that.  One  should  always  bow  to  a  woman. 

"Who  was  the  tall  one?"  called  out  Lucy,  in  the  midst  of  the 
noise  caused  by  the  wheels. 

"Countess  Muffat,"  answered  Steiner. 

"There  now!  I  thought  as  much!"  exclaimed  Nana.  "Well,  my 
boy,  in  spite  of  her  being  a  countess,  I  can  tell  you  she's  not  worth 
much.  Yes,  yes,  not  worth  much.  You  know  I've  an  eye  for 
that  sort  of  thing,  I  have.  Now,  I  know  her  as  if  I  had  made  her, 
your  countess.  Will  you  bet  that  that  viper  Fauchery  isn't  her 
lover?  I  tell  you  that  he  is  her  lover!  One  can  easily  see  that, 
between  women." 

Steiner  shrugged  his  shoulders.  Ever  since  the  previous  even- 
ing his  bad  temper  had  been  on  the  increase.  He  had  received 
some  letters  which  would  oblige  him  to  leave  on  the  following 
morning.  Then,  too,  it  wasn't  very  amusing  to  come  to  the  country 
just  to  sleep  on  the  drawing-room  sofa. 


NANA 

"And  this  poor  baby!"  resumed  Nana,  suddenly  become  tender- 
hearted, as  she  caught  sight  of  George,  who  was  sitting  pale  and 
erect,  and  scarce  able  to  breathe. 

"Do  you  think  that  mamma  recognised  me?"  he  at  length 
stammered  forth. 

"Oh!  most  decidedly.  She  cried  out.  But  it's  all  my  fault. 
He  didn't  want  to  come,  and  I  made  him.  Listen  to  me,  Zizi; 
shall  I  write  to  your  mamma?  She  looks  a  very  kind  woman.  I 
will  tell  her  that  I  never  saw  you  before,  and  that  it  was  Steiner 
who  brought  you  to  me  to-day  for  the  first  time." 

"No,  no,  don't  write,"  said  George,  anxiously.  "I  will  arrange 
all  myself.  And,  if  they  make  a  fuss,  I'll  come  away  and  never 
go  back  again." 

But  he  continued  very  dejected  and  absorbed  in  reflection, 
trying  to  invent  some  lies  for  the  evening.  The  five  vehicles 
continued  along  the  straight  and  interminable  level  road,  bordered 
on  either  side  by  some  very  fine  trees.  The  country  around  was 
enveloped  in  a  kind  of  silvery  grey  vapour.  The  ladies  continued 
to  pass  remarks  from  one  carriage  to  another,  from  behind  the 
backs  of  the  coachmen,  who  laughed  to  themselves  at  the  strange 
company  they  were  driving;  now  and  again  one  of  the  women 
would  stand  up  to  obtain  a  better  view,  and,  becoming  interested, 
would  remain  in  that  position,  leaning  against  her  neighbour's 
shoulder,  until  a  sudden  jerk  of  the  vehicle  brought  her  to  her 
seat  again.  Caroline  Hequet  was  having  some  very  important 
conversation  with  Labordette;  they  both  came  to  the  conclusion 
that  Nana  would  be  wanting  to  part  with  her  country  house  in 
less  than  three  months,  and  Caroline  instructed  Labordette  to 
acquire  it  for  her,  under  the  rose,  for  a  very  moderate  sum.  In 
the  carriage  preceding  them,  La  Faloise,  very  spooney,  and  un- 
able to  reach  Gaga's  apoplectic  neck,  was  depositing  kisses  on 
that  part  of  her  dress  which,  almost  bursting  with  the  tightness 
of  the  fit,  covered  her  backbone;  whilst  Amelie,  sitting  bolt  up- 
right on  the  little  seat  in  front,  sick  of  being  there  with  empty 
arms  watching  her  mother  being  kissed,  kept  telling  them  to  leave 
off.  In  the  next  carriage,  Mignon,  with  the  view  of  surprising 
Lucy,  made  his  sons  recite  one  of  La  Fontaine's  fables  —  Henri 
especially  was  prodigious,  he  could  say  it  right  off  without  a  single 
mistake.  But  Maria  Blond,  at  the  head  of  the  procession,  was 
beginning  to  feel  awfully  bored,  tired  of  poking  fun  at  that  fool 

£1663 


NAN  A 

of  a  Tatan  Nene,  who  believed  her  when  she  said  that  the  Paris 
dairymen  made  their  eggs  out  of  gum  and  saffron.  It  was  too  far, 
would  they  never  arrive?  And  the  question,  passed  from  car- 
riage to  carriage,  at  length  reached  Nana,  who,  after  consulting 
her  coachman,  stood  up  and  called  to  the  others: 

"In  about  a  quarter  of  an  hour.  You  see  that  church  over 
there,  behind  the  trees  — "  Then,  after  a  slight  pause,  she  resumed: 
"You  don't  know,  it  seems  that  the  owner  of  the  Chateau  de 
Chamont  is  an  old  flame  of  the  time  of  the  first  Napoleon.  And 
oh!  such  a  fast  one,  so  Joseph  told  me,  and  he  heard  it  when  he 
was  at  the  bishop's.  She  used  to  lead  a  life  such  as  one  couldn't 
lead  now.  However,  she  has  become  awfully  religious." 

"What's  her  name?"  asked  Lucy. 

"Madame  d'Anglars." 

"Irma  d'Anglars!  —  I  knew  her!"  cried  Gaga. 

From  each  vehicle  there  issued  a  string  of  exclamations,  which 
were  lost  in  the  more  rapid  trot  of  the  horses.  Heads  were  stretched 
out  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  Gaga.  Maria  Blond  and  Tatan  Nene 
turned  round  and  knelt  on  the  seat,  holding  on  to  the  closed  hood 
at  the  back  of  the  carriage,  and  questions  were  asked,  and  malicious 
observations,  tempered  with  a  secret  admiration,  were  made. 
Gaga  had  known  her,  that  filled  them  all  with  respect  for  this 
far  away  past. 

"I  was  very  young,  then,"  resumed  Gaga.  "AH  the  same,  I 
recollect  I  used  to  see  her  pass.  It  was  said  that  she  was  something 
disgusting  at  home,  but  in  her  carriage  she  was  magnificent!  And 
the  most  incredible  stories  circulated  —  such  filthy  goings-on  that 
it's  a  marvel  she  ever  lived  through  them.  It  doesn't  surprise  me 
that  she  has  a  chateau.  She  could  clear  a  man  out  as  easy  as 
breathe  on  him.  Ah!  Irma  d'Anglars  is  still  among  the  living! 
Well,  my  little  friends,  she  must  be  about  ninety  now." 

On  hearing  this,  the  ladies  all  became  very  serious.  Ninety 
years  old!  There  wasn't  one  of  them,  as  Lucy  said,  who  had  a 
chance  of  living  to  that  age.  They  were  all  roarers.  Nana,  too, 
declared  that  she  didn't  want  to  make  old  bones;  it  was  funnier 
not  to.  They  had  now  almost  reached  their  destination,  and  their 
conversation  was  interrupted  by  the  drivers  cracking  their  whips 
as  they  urged  on  the  tired  horses.  Yet,  in  the  midst  of  the  noise, 
Lucy,  jumping  to  another  subject,  continued  talking,  and  pressed 
Nana  to  leave  with  the  others  on  the  morrow.  The  Exhibition 


NANA 

was  about  to  close,  and  the  ladies  were  anxious  to  get  back  to  Paris, 
where  the  season  so  far  had  surpassed  their  wildest  hopes.  But 
Nana  was  obstinate.  She  detested  Paris,  she  wouldn't  go  back 
there  for  a  long  time  to  come. 

"Eh,  ducky!  we'll  stay  where  we  are?"  said  she,  squeezing 
George's  knees,  notwithstanding  Steiner's  presence. 

The  carriages  suddenly  stopped,  and  the  party,  very  much 
surprised,  alighted  in  a  desert-looking  place  at  the  foot  of  a  hill. 
One  of  the  drivers  had  to  point  out  to  them  with  his  whip  the 
ruins  of  the  ancient  abbey  of  Chamont,  almost  hidden  by  the 
trees.  It  was  a  great  deception.  The  ladies  were  disgusted.  All 
they  could  see  were  a  few  heaps  of  rubbish,  over-grown  with 
brambles,  and  a  half  tumble-down  tower.  Really  it  was  ridiculous 
to  come  two  leagues  to  see  that.  The  driver  then  pointed  out  to 
them  the  chateau,  the  park  belonging  to  which  was  close  to  the 
abbey,  and  he  told  them  they  could  reach  it  by  following  a  little 
path  that  skirted  the  walls.  They  could  take  a  look  round  whilst 
the  carriages  waited  for  them  in  the  village.  It  was  a  most  de- 
lightful walk.  The  party  agreed  to  try  it. 

"The  deuce!  Irma  must  be  very  well  off!"  said  Gaga,  stopping 
in  front  of  some  iron  railings  at  one  of  the  corners  of  the  park. 

They  all  gazed  in  silence  at  the  handsome  trees  and  shrubs 
on  the  other  side  of  the  railings.  Then  they  continued  along 
the  narrow  path,  following  the  walls  of  the  park,  every  now  and 
then  raising  their  eyes  to  admire  the  trees,  the  branches  of  which 
spread  out  overhead  in  an  impenetrable  green  canopy.  After 
three  minutes'  walk  they  came  to  some  more  iron  railings,  which 
enabled  them  to  see  an  extensive  lawn,  over  which  two  venerable 
oak  trees  cast  a  welcome  shade;  and  three  minutes'  further  walk- 
ing brought  them  to  some  more  railings,  which  exhibited  to  them 
an  immense  avenue,  a  passage  of  darkness,  at  the  end  of  which 
the  sun  looked  like  a  bright  star.  An  admiration,  at  first  silent, 
gradually  burst  forth  into  exclamations.  They  had,  at  the  out- 
set, indulged  themselves  in  chaff,  feeling  rather  envious,  however, 
all  the  time;  but  this,  decidedly,  was  too  much  for  them.  What 
a  wonder  she  was,  that  Irma!  Such  things  as  this  gave  one  a 
grand  idea  of  woman!  The  trees  still  continued  as  plentiful  as 
ever,  and  at  every  few  steps  there  were  patches  of  ivy  trailing 
over  the  wall,  with  the  tops  of  summer-houses  just  visible,  and 
screens  of  poplars  succeeding  to  compact  groups  of  elms  and  aspens. 


NANA 

Would  it  never  come  to  an  end!  The  ladies,  tired  of  continually 
following  this  wall,  without  catching  a  glimpse,  at  every  opening, 
of  anything  except  .masses  of  foliage,  were  anxious  to  see  the 
chateau.  They  clutched  the  railings  with  both  hands,  pressing 
their  faces  against  the  iron.  A  feeling  of  respect  took  possession 
of  them,  while  thus  kept  at  a  distance,  and  dreaming  of  the 
chateau  hidden  in  this  immensity  of  trees.  After  walking  quickly 
for  some  time,  they  began  to  feel  really  fatigued.  Yet  there  were 
no  signs  of  the  wall  coming  to  an  end.  At  every  turn  of  the  path 
ladies,  despairing  of  ever  reaching  the  end,  talked  of  going  back; 
but  the  more  the  length  of  the  walk  tired  them,  the  more  respect- 
ful they  became,  impressed  as  they  were  at  every  step  by  the  calm 
and  regal  majesty  of  the  domain. 

"It's  positively  sickening!"  muttered  Caroline  Hequet  between 
her  teeth. 

Nana  checked  her  with  a  shrug  of  the  shoulders.  For  some 
little  while  she  had  not  said  a  word,  but  walked  along,  looking 
slightly  pale  and  very  serious.  Suddenly,  at  another  turn,  they 
found  themselves  close  to  the  village;  the  wall  abruptly  ter- 
minated, and  the  chateau  appeared  at  the  end  of  a  spacious 
courtyard.  They  all  stopped,  lost  in  admiration  of  the  lofty 
grandeur  of  the  broad  entrance-steps,  of  the  twenty  windows 
that  studded  the  facade,  of  the  extent  of  the  three  wings,  the 
brick  walls  of  which  were  framed  with  stone-work.  Henri  IV. 
had  inhabited  that  historic  building,  in  which  his  bedroom  still 
existed,  with  its  enormous  bed  hung  with  Genoa  velvet.  Nana, 
deeply  affected,  sighed  like  a  child. 

"My  goodness!"  murmured  she  very  softly  to  herself. 

But  a  violent  emotion  seized  upon  all.  Gaga,  on  a  sudden, 
stated  that  it  was  Irma  in  person  who  was  standing  in  front  of 
the  church.  She  recognised  her  perfectly;  always  upright,  the 
minx,  in  spite  of  her  age,  and  just  the  same  eyes  when  she  assumed 
her  grand  air.  Vespers  were  just  over.  For  an  instant  madame 
stood  within  the  porch.  She  wore  a  silk  dress  of  the  colour  of 
faded  leaves,  and  looked  very  tall  and  simple,  with  the  venerable 
countenance  of  an  old  marchioness  who  had  escaped  the  horrors 
of  the  Revolution.  In  her  right  hand  a  bulky  prayer-book  shone 
in  the  sunshine;  and  she  slowly  traversed  the  open  space  before 
the  church,  followed  by  a  footman  in  livery,  who  walked  at  a 
respectful  distance  behind  her.  The  congregation  was  stream- 


NANA 

ing  out;  all  the  Chamont  folks  bowed  low  as  she  passed  them; 
an  old  man  kissed  her  hand;  a  woman  fell  on  her  knees  before  her. 
She  was  a  mighty  queen,  loaded  with  years  and  honours.  She 
ascended  the  steps  of  her  chateau  and  disappeared. 

"That's  what  one  comes  to  when  one  is  careful,"  said  Mignon, 
in  a  convinced  manner,  while  looking  at  his  sons  as  though  giving 
them  a  lesson. 

Then  every  one  said  something.  Labordette  thought  her 
wonderfully  preserved;  Maria  Blond  called  her  an  offensive 
name;  whilst  Lucy  became  quite  angry,  saying  that  one  should 
ever  respect  old  age  —  in  short,  they  all  agreed  that  she  was 
something  stupendous,  and  then  rejoined  the  carriages.  From 
Chamont  to  La  Mignotte,  Nana  did  not  utter  a  word.  She 
turned  round  twice  to  take  a  look  at  the  chateau.  Lulled  by  the 
noise  of  the  wheels,  she  no  longer  felt  Steiner  by  her  side;  she  no 
longer  beheld  George  seated  in  front  of  her.  A  vision  rose  from 
out  of  the  twilight  —  madame  still  passing  slowly  along,  with 
the  majesty  of  a  mighty  queen,  loaded  with  years  and  honours. 

That  evening  George  returned  to  Les  Fondettes  in  time  for 
dinner.  Nana,  more  and  more  absent-minded  and  peculiar,  had 
sent  him  home  to  ask  his  mamma's  forgiveness.  It  was  indispen- 
sable, said  she  severely,  seized  with  a  sudden  respect  for  family 
duties.  She  even  made  him  promise  not  to  return  to  her  that 
night.  She  was  tired,  and  he  would  only  be  doing  his  duty  in 
showing  obedience.  George,  very  much  bored  by  this  moral 
lesson,  appeared  before  his  mother  with  a  heavy  heart,  and 
hanging  down  his  head.  Luckily  for  him,  his  brother  Philippe 
had  arrived  —  a  big  soldier  and  a  very  lively  fellow.  This  dis- 
pelled the  storm  that  was  impending.  Madame  Hugon  con- 
tented herself  with  looking  at  him  with  her  eyes  full  of  tears; 
whilst  Philippe,  informed  of  what  had  occurred,  threatened  to 
bring  him  back  by  the  ears  if  he  ever  returned  to  that  woman. 
George,  greatly  relieved,  slyly  thought  of  a  plan  by  which  he 
might  escape  the  next  afternoon  towards  two  o'clock,  and  arrange 
about  his  meetings  with  Nana. 

During  dinner,  the  guests  at  Les  Fondettes  seemed  labouring 
under  a  certain  embarrassment.  Vandeuvres  had  announced  his 
departure;  he  wished  to  take  Lucy  back  to  Paris,  amused  at 
the  idea  of  carrying  off  this  woman,  whom  he  had  known  for 
ten  years  past  without  having  felt  the  slightest  desire  for  her 


NANA 

person  before.  The  Marquis  de  Chouard,  his  nose  buried  in  his 
plate,  was  thinking  of  Gaga's  young  lady;  he  recollected  having 
nursed  her  on  his  knee.  How  quickly  children  grew  up!  She  was 
really  becoming  quite  a  plump  little  thing.  Count  Muffat,  his 
face  very  red,  remained  absorbed  in  reflection.  He  continually 
glanced  at  George.  When  dinner  was  over  he  went  and  shut 
himself  in  his  room,  complaining  of  a  slight  touch  of  fever.  M. 
Venot  had  hastened  after  him;  and  upstairs  there  was  quite  a 
scene  between  them.  The  count  had  flung  himself  on  the  bed 
and  was  stifling  his  nervous  sobs  in  the  pillow,  whilst  M.  Venot, 
in  a  mild  tone  of  voice,  called  him  his  brother,  and  exhorted 
him  to  implore  the  divine  mercy.  He  heard  not,  he  had  a  rat- 
tling in  his  throat.  All  on  a  sudden,  he  jumped  from  the  bed,  and 
stammered, 

"  I  am  going  —  I  can  no  longer  resist  — 
"Very  well,"  said  the  old  man,    "I  will  go  with  you." 
As  they  went  out,  two  shadows  were  disappearing  in  the  depths 
of  a  side-walk.    Every  night,  Fauchery  and  Countess  Sabine  now 
let  Daguenet  help  Estelle  make  the  tea.     On  the  high  road,  the 
count  walked  at  such  a  pace,  that  his  companion  was  obliged  to 
run  to  keep  up  with  him.    Though  short  of  breath,  the  old  man 
did  not  cease  offering  him  the  best  possible  arguments  against 
succumbing  to  the  temptations  of  the  flesh.     The  other  never 
opened  his  mouth,  but  hurried  onwards  in  the  darkness.    When 
he  reached  La  Mignotte,  however,  he  said, 
"I  can  fight  no  more  —  leave  me." 

"Then,  God's  will  be  done,"  murmured  M.  Venot.  "He  takes 
all  means  to  assure  his  triumph.  Your  sin  will  become  one  of 
his  weapons." 

At  La  Mignotte,  a  good  deal  of  quarrelling  went  on  during 
the  repast.  Nana  had  received  a  letter  from  Bordenave,  in 
which  he  advised  her  to  take  plenty  of  rest,  but  in  a  way  that 
showed  he  did  not  care  a  pin  about  her:  little  Violaine  was 
called  twice  before  the  curtain  every  night.  And,  as  Mignon 
again  pressed  her  to  leave  with  them  all  on  the  morrow,  Nana, 
exasperated,  declared  that  she  was  not  in  want  of  advice  from 
any  one.  Besides,  whilst  at  table,  she  had  behaved  in  a  most 
ridiculously  strait-laced  manner.  Madame  Lerat,  having  made 
use  of  a  rather  objectionable  word,  she  cried  out  —  hang  it  all! 
she  would  allow  nobody,  not  even  her  aunt,  to  utter  filthy  ex- 


NANA 

pressions  in  her  presence.  Then  influenced  by  an  idiotic  attack 
of  respectability,  she  bored  everyone  with  her  goody-goody 
sentiments,  with  her  ideas  of  giving  little  Louis  a  religious  educa- 
tion, and  a  whole  course  of  good  behaviour  for  herself.  As  they 
all  laughed,  she  made  use  of  some  very  profound  words,  wagging 
her  head  like  a  worthy  woman  thoroughly  convinced,  saying  that 
order  alone  led  to  fortune,  and  that  she  didn't  want  to  die  on  a 
dung  heap.  The  other  women,  having  had  enough  of  it,  protested. 
Was  it  possible!  some  one  must  have  changed  Nana!  But  she, 
immovable  in  her  seat,  relapsed  into  her  reverie,  her  eyes  gazing 
into  space,  and  conjuring  up  a  vision  of  a  Nana  very  rich  and 
very  much  bowed  to. 

When  Muff  at  arrived,  they  were  all  just  going  up  to  bed. 
Labordette  noticed  him  in  the  garden,  and,  understanding  his 
object,  rendered  him  the  service  of  getting  Steiner  out  of  the 
way,  and  of  leading  him  by  the  hand  along  the  dark  passage  to 
the  door  of  Nana's  room.  Labordette,  for  this  sort  of  jobs,  had  a 
most  gentlemanly  way,  was  very  dexterous,  and  seemed  delighted 
at  conducing  to  another's  happiness.  Nana  showed  no  surprise, 
but  merely  felt  bored  by  Muffat's  persistence.  However,  one 
must  have  an  eye  for  business  during  life!  It  was  stupid  to  love, 
it  led  to  nothing.  Besides,  she  had  scruples  on  account  of  Zizi's 
youth:  she  had  really  behaved  disgracefully.  Well!  she  would 
return  to  the  right  path,  and  go  for  the  old  fellow. 

"Zoe,"  said  she  to  the  maid  who  was  only  too  delighted  to 
leave  the  country,  "pack  the  trunks  the  first  thing  to-morrow 
morning.  We  are  going  back  to  Paris." 

And  she  allowed  Muffat  to  remain,  though  it  caused  her  no 
pleasure. 


CITS  3 


CHAPTER  VII 

THREE  months  later,  one  night  in  December,  Count  Muffat 
was  walking  up  and  down  the  Passage  des  Panoramas.  It 
was  a  very  mild  evening.  A  shower  had  just  driven  a 
crowd  of  people  into  the  Passage.  There  was  quite  a  mob,  and  it 
was  a  slow  and  difficult  task  to  pass  along  between  the  shops  on 
either  side.  Beneath  the  glass  roof,  brightened  by  the  reflection, 
there  was  a  most  fierce  illumination,  consisting  of  an  endless  string 
of  lights  —  white  globes,  red  and  blue  lamps,  rows  of  flaring  gas- 
jets,  and  monstrous  watches  and  fans  formed  of  flames  of  fire  — 
burning  without  any  protection  whatsoever;  and  the  medley  of 
colours  in  the  various  shop  windows  —  the  gold  of  the  jewellers, 
the  crystal  vases  of  the  confectioners,  the  pale  silks  of  the  milli- 
ners —  blazed  behind  the  spotless  plate-glass,  in  the  strong  light 
cast  by  the  reflectors;  whilst  among  the  chaos  of  gaudily  painted 
signs,  an  enormous  red  glove  in  the  distance  looked  like  a  bleeding 
hand,  cut  off  and  fixed  to  a  yellow  cuff. 

Count  Muffat  had  strolled  leisurely  as  far  as  the  Boulevard. 
He  cast  a  glance  on  the  pavement,  then  slowly  retraced  his  foot- 
steps, keeping  close  to  the  shops.  A  damp  and  warm  air  filled 
the  narrow  thoroughfare  with  a  kind  of  luminous  vapour.  Along 
the  flagstones,  wet  from  the  drippings  of  umbrellas,  footsteps 
reverberated  continuously,  without  the  sound  of  a  single  voice. 
The  passers-by,  elbowing  the  count  at  each  turn,  gazed  at  his 
impassive  face,  rendered  paler  than  usual  by  the  glare  of  the  gas. 
So,  to  escape  from  their  curiosity,  he  went  and  stood  in  front  of 
a  stationer's  shop,  where  he  inspected,  apparently  with  profound 
attention,  a  display  of  glass  paper-weights,  containing  coloured 
representations  of  landscapes  and  flowers. 

But  in  reality  he  saw  nothing.  He  was  thinking  of  Nana. 
Why  had  she  lied  to  him  again?  That  morning  she  had  written 
to  tell  him  not  to  come  to  her  in  the  evening,  pretending  that 
little  Louis  was  ill,  and  that  she  would  stay  with  him  all  night 
at  her  aunt's.  But  he,  being  suspicious,  had  called  at  her  house, 
and  had  learned  from  the  concierge  that  madame  had  just  gone 

C'733 


NANA 

off  to  her  theatre.  It  surprised  him,  for  he  knew  that  she  had  no 
part  in  the  new  piece.  Why,  then,  that  lie,  and  what  could  she 
be  doing  at  the  Variety  Theatre  that  evening? 

Pushed  against  by  some  passer-by,  the  count,  without  knowing 
he  did  so,  quitted  the  paper-weights,  and  found  himself  in  front 
of  a  window  full  of  miscellaneous  articles,  and  looking  in  his 
absorbed  way  at  a  quantity  of  pocket-books  and  cigar-cases,  all 
which  had  the  same  little  blue  swallow  painted  on  one  of  the 
corners.  Nana  was  certainly  altered.  In  the  early  days,  after 
her  return  from  the  country,  she  used  to  send  him  mad  when  she 
kissed  him  on  the  face  and  whiskers,  with  the  little  playful  ways 
of  a  kitten,  swearing  that  he  was  her  ducky  darling,  the  only  little 
man  whom  she  adored.  He  no  longer  feared  George,  who  was 
kept  by  his  mother  at  Les  Fondettes.  There  remained  fat  old 
Steiner,  whose  place  he  supposed  he  had  taken,  but  he  had  never 
dared  to  ask  a  question  on  the  subject.  He  knew  that  Steiner 
was  in  a  great  mess  about  money  matters,  and  on  the  point  of 
being  declared  a  defaulter  at  the  Bourse,  and  that  his  only  chance 
was  a  rise  in  the  shares  of  the  Salt  Works  of  the  Landes.  If  he 
ever  met  him  at  Nana's  she  would  always  explain,  in  a  reasonable 
sort  of  way,  that  she  had  not  the  heart  to  send  him  off  like  a  dog, 
after  all  he  had  spent  upon  her.  Besides,  for  three  months  past, 
he,  the  count,  had  lived  in  the  midst  of  a  sort  of  a  sensual  whirl- 
pool, outside  of  which  he  understood  nothing  very  clearly  but  the 
necessity  of  possessing  Nana.  This  late  awakening  of  his  flesh 
was  like  the  gluttony  of  a  child,  which  leaves  no  room  for  either 
vanity  or  jealousy.  Only  a  precise  sensation  could  strike  him: 
Nana  was  not  as  nice  as  at  first,  she  no  longer  kissed  him  on  the 
beard.  This  caused  him  some  anxiety,  and,  as  a  man  ignorant 
of  the  ways  of  women,  he  asked  himself  what  she  could  have  to 
reproach  him  with.  Yet,  he  fancied  that  he  satisfied  all  her  de- 
sires; and  his  thoughts  returned  to  the  letter  of  the  morning, 
to  that  complicated  lie,  told  for  the  simple  object  of  spending  the 
evening  at  her  theatre.  Jostled  again  by  the  crowd,  he  had  crossed 
the  Passage,  and  was  racking  his  brain  at  the  entrance  to  a  res- 
taurant, his  eyes  fixed  on  some  plucked  larks  and  a  fine  salmon, 
which  were  displayed  in  the  window. 

At  length  he  seemed  to  tear  himself  from  this  spectacle.  He 
pulled  himself  together,  and,  raising  his  eyes,  noticed  that  it  was 
close  upon  nine  o'clock.  Nana  would  soon  be  coming  out,  and  he 

CI743 


NANA 

would  insist  upon  knowing  the  truth;  and  he  walked  about,  re- 
calling to  mind  the  evenings  already  spent  in  that  place,  when 
he  used  to  call  for  her  at  the  stage  door  of  the  theatre.  He  knew 
all  the  shops.  He  recognised  their  odours  in  the  atmosphere 
laden  with  the  stench  of  gas,  the  strong  smell  of  Russian  leather, 
the  fragrance  of  vanilla  which  came  from  the  basement  of  a  dealer 
in  chocolate,  the  whiffs  of  musk  issuing  from  the  open  doors  of 
the  perfumers;  and  he  no,  longer  dared  stop  in  front  of  the  pale 
faces  of  the  shop-women,  who  placidly  surveyed  him  as  an  old 
acquaintance.  One  minute  he  appeared  to  study  the  row  of  little 
round  windows  above  the  shops,  in  the  midst  of  the  different 
signs,  as  though  he  saw  them  for  the  first  time.  Then  he  went 
again  as  far  as  the  Boulevard,  and  stood  there  a  little  while.  The 
rain  now  only  came  down  in  very  fine  drops,  which,  falling  cold 
upon  his  hands,  calmed  him.  Now  his  thoughts  wandered  to  his 
wife,  who  was  at  a  chateau  near  Macon,  with  her  friend  Madame 
de  Chezelles,  who  had  been  very  unwell  ever  since  the  autumn. 
The  vehicles  on  the  Boulevard  rolled  along  in  a  river  of  mud. 
The  country  must  be  unbearable  in  such  weather.  But,  this 
anxiety  suddenly  returning,  he  plunged  once  more  into  the  sti- 
fling heat  of  the  Passage,  and  walked  with  rapid  strides  past  the 
loungers.  The  idea  had  just  occurred  to  him  that,  if  Nana  had 
any  doubts  about  his  coming,  she  might  make  off  by  the  Galerie 
Montmartre. 

From  that  moment  the  count  watched  at  the  stage-door  itself. 
He  did  not  like  waiting  in  that  bit  of  a  lobby,  where  he  was  afraid 
of  being  recognised.  It  was  at  the  junction  of  the  Galerie  des 
Varietes  and  of  the  Galerie  Saint-Marc,  a  nasty  corner,  with  some 
obscure  shops  —  a  cobbler  who  never  had  any  customers,  dealers 
in  musty  furniture,  a  smoky  reading-room  in  a  state  of  somnolence, 
with  its  shaded  lamps  shedding  a  green  light  at  night.  Hereabouts 
one  could  always  see  gentlemen  stylishly  dressed,  patiently  wander- 
ing about  amongst  all  that  usually  encumbers  a  stage-door  — 
drunken  scene-shifters,  and  painted  hussies  in  gaudy  rags.  A 
single  gas-jet,  in  an  unwashed  globe,  lighted  up  the  entrance. 
One  moment  Muffat  had  the  idea  of  questioning  Madame  Bron, 
but  then  he  feared  that,  should  Nana  hear  of  his  being  there,  she 
might  leave  by  the  Boulevard.  He  resumed  his  walk,  resolved 
to  wait  until  he  was  turned  out  when  the  man  shut  the  gates,  as 
had  already  happened  to  him  on  two  occasions. 


NANA 

The  thought  of  going  back  alone  filled  his  heart  with  anguish. 
Each  time  that  any  dressed-up  girls,  or  men  in  dirty  garments, 
came  out  and  looked  at  him,  he  went  and  stood  in  front  of  the 
reading-room,  where,  between  a  couple  of  posters  in  the  window,  he 
always  beheld  the  same  sight  —  a  little  old  man,  sitting  upright 
and  alone  at  the  immense  table,  in  the  green  light  of  a  lamp, 
reading  a  green  newspaper  which  he  held  in  his  green  hands.  But 
a  few  minutes  before  ten  o'clock,  another  gentleman  —  a  tall  hand- 
some man,  fair,  and  wearing  well-fitting  gloves,  began  also  to 
wander  about  outside  the  theatre.  Then  every  time  they  met,  they 
mistrustfully  gave  each  other  a  sidelong  glance.  The  count 
walked  as  far  as  the  junction  of  the  two  galleries,  which  was 
decorated  with  a  tall  mirror;  and,  seeing  himself  in  it  looking 
so  solemn-faced,  and  with  such  a  correct  gait,  he  was  seized 
with  shame,  mixed  with  fear. 

Ten  o'clock  struck.  Muffat  suddenly  remembered  that  it  was 
easy  enough  for  him  to  see  if  Nana  was  in  her  dressing-room.  He 
went  up  the  three  steps,  passed  through  the  little  hall  besmeared 
with  a  coat  of  yellow  paint,  and  reached  the  courtyard  by  a  door 
that  was  only  latched.  At  that  hour  the  courtyard,  narrow  and 
damp  like  a  well,  with  its  foul-smelling  closets,  its  water-tap, 
the  kitchen-stove,  and  the  plants  with  which  the  doorkeeper 
lumbered  it,  was  bathed  in  a  black  mist;  but  the  two  walls  which 
rose  up,  studded  with  windows,  were  ablaze  with  light.  Below 
were  the  property-room  and  the  firemen's  station,  on  the  left 
the  manager's  rooms,  on  the  right  and  up  above  the  dressing- 
rooms.  On  the  sides  of  this  well  they  looked  like  so  many  oven 
doors  opening  into  darkness.  The  count  had  at  once  noticed  a 
light  in  the  window  of  the  dressing-room  on  the  first  floor;  and, 
feeling  relieved  and  happy,  he  stood  there  in  the  greasy  mud, 
looking  up  in  the  air,  and  inhaling  the  unsavoury  stench  at  this 
back  of  an  old  Parisian  house.  Large  drops  were  running  down 
from  a  cracked  water  pipe.  A  ray  of  gaslight,  from  Madame 
Bron's  window,  gave  a  yellow  tinge  to  a  bit  of  the  moss-covered 
pavement,  to  the  foot  of  a  wall  eaten  away  by  the  water  from  a 
sink,  and  to  a  heap  of  rubbish  on  which  innumerable  old  pails 
and  cracked  pots  and  pans  had  been  thrown  together,  with  a 
saucepan  in  which  a  scraggy  spindle-tree  was  vainly  endeavour- 
ing to  grow.  There  was  heard  the  sound  of  a  window  opening, 
and  the  count  hastened  away. 


NANA 

Nana  would  certainly  be  coming  out  directly.  He  returned 
to  the  window  of  the  reading-room.  In  the  deep  shadow,  broken 
only  by  a  faint  glimmer  like  that  of  a  night-light,  the  little  old 
man  could  still  be  seen  there  with  his  face  buried  in  his  paper. 
Then  the  count  walked  about  again,  strolling  rather  farther  off. 
He  crossed  the  main  gallery,  and  followed  the  Galerie  des  Varietes 
as  far  as  the  Galerie  Feydeau,  cold  and  deserted,  and  plunged  in 
a  lugubrious  obscurity;  and  then  he  returned,  and,  passing  before 
the  theatre,  ventured  along  the  Galerie  Saint-Marc  as  far  as  the 
Galerie  Montmartre,  where  he  watched  a  machine  cutting  up 
sugar  in  a  grocer's  shop.  But  on  his  third  turn,  the  fear  that 
Nana  might  go  off  behind  his  back  made  him  lose  all  self-respect. 
He  went  and  stood  with  the  fair  gentleman  right  opposite  the 
stage-door,  and  they  both  exchanged  a  glance  of  fraternal  humility, 
lighted  up  with  a  remnant  of  mistrust  as  to  a  possible  rivalry. 
Some  scene-shifters  who  came  out  to  smoke  their  pipes  during  one 
of  the  acts  shoved  up  against  them,  without  either  of  them  daring 
to  complain.  Three  big  girls,  with  tangled  hair  and  dirty  dresses, 
appeared  in  the  doorway,  eating  apples  and  spitting  out  the  cores; 
and  the  two  men  hung  down  their  heads,  and  submitted  to  the 
effrontery  of  their  stares  and  the  coarseness  of  their  remarks, 
consenting  to  be  dirtied  and  bespattered  by  these  hussies,  who 
amused  themselves  by  jostling  against  them  as  they  roughly  played 
together. 

Just  then  Nana  came  down  the  three  steps.  She  turned  deadly 
pale  as  she  caught  sight  of  Muffat. 

"Ah!  it's  you,"  she  stammered. 

The  jeering  girls  became  frightened  when  they  recognised  her; 
and  they  stood  still  in  a  row,  erect  and  serious,  like  servants 
caught  by  their  mistress  when  doing  wrong.  The  tall  fair  gentle- 
man had  moved  a  little  distance  off,  sad  and  reassured  at  the 
same  time. 

"Well!  give  me  your  arm,"  resumed  Nana  abruptly. 

They  walked  slowly  away.  The  count,  who  had  prepared  a 
number  of  questions,  could  find  nothing  to  say.  It  was  she  who, 
in  a  rapid  tone  of  voice,  related  a  long  rigmarole  —  she  had 
stayed  at  her  aunt's  till  eight  o'clock;  then,  seeing  that  little 
Louis  was  a  great  deal  better,  she  had  had  the  idea  of  coming  to 
the  theatre  for  a  short  time. 

"For  anything  particular?"  asked  he. 

CI773 


NANA 

"Yes,  a  new  piece,"  she  replied,  after  a  slight  hesitation. 
"They  wanted  to  have  my  opinion." 

He  knew  that  she  lied.  But  the  warmth  of  her  arm,  leaning 
heavily  on  his,  left  him  without  strength  to  say  a  word.  His 
anger  and  his  annoyance  at  having  had  to  wait  for  her  so  long 
had  disappeared;  his  sole  anxiety  was  to  keep  her,  now  that  he 
had  her  with  him.  On  the  morrow  he  would  try  and  find  out 
what  she  had  been  about  in  her  dressing-room.  Nana,  still 
hesitating,  and  visibly  a  prey  to  the  inward  struggle  of  a  person 
trying  to  regain  her  composure  and  to  decide  on  a  course  of 
action,  stopped,  on  turning  the  corner  of  the  Galerie  des  Varietes, 
in  front  of  a  fan-maker's  window. 

"Look!  isn't  it  lovely?"  she  murmured,  "the  mother-of-pearl 
one  trimmed  with  feathers."  Then,  in  a  careless  tone  of  voice, 
she  added,  "So,  you  are  coming  home  with  me?" 

"Why,  of  course,"  said  Muffat,  astonished,  "as  your  child  is 
better." 

She  regretted  her  long-winded  story.  Perhaps  little  Louis  had 
had  another  attack,  and  she  talked  of  returning  to  BatignoIIes: 
but  as  he  offered  to  go  too,  she  let  the  subject  drop.  One  minute 
she  boiled  with  rage,  like  a  woman  who  finds  herself  caught  and 
who  is  obliged  to  show  herself  submissive  and  gentle.  However, 
she  became  resigned  to  her  fate,  and  resolved  to  gain  time;  if 
she  could  only  get  rid  of  the  count  by  midnight,  all  would  go 
as  she  wished. 

"Ah!  yes;  you  are  a  bachelor  to-night,"  she  resumed.  "Your 
wife  does  not  return  till  to-morrow  morning,  does  she?" 

"No,"  replied  Muffat,  slightly  annoyed  at  hearing  her  speak 
of  the  countess  in  that  familiar  way.  But  she  continued  to 
question  him,  asking  the  time  of  the  arrival  of  the  train,  and 
wishing  to  know  whether  he  intended  going  to  the  station  to 
meet  his  wife.  She  had  again  slackened  her  footsteps,  as  though 
very  much  interested  in  the  contents  of  the  shop  windows. 

"Oh!  look  there!"  she  exclaimed,  stopping  in  front  of  a  jewel- 
ler's, "what  a  funny  bracelet!" 

She  loved  the  Passage  des  Panoramas.  Ever  since  her  girl- 
hood she  had  had  a  passion  for  the  glitter  of  Paris  gew-gaws, 
counterfeit  jewellery,  gilded  zinc,  and  imitation  leather.  When- 
ever she  passed  through  it  she  could  not  drag  herself  away  from 
the  shops,  just  the  same  as  when  she  used  to  run  about  the  streets, 


NANA 

lingering  opposite  the  sweets  of  a  confectioner's,  listening  to  the 
playing  of  an  organ  next  door,  smitten  above  all  by  the  bad  taste 
of  the  articles  that  seemed  marvels  of  cheapness  —  housewives 
contained  in  monstrous  walnut  shells,  rag-pickers'  baskets  full  of 
toothpicks,  Vendome  columns  and  Luxor  obelisks  holding  ther- 
mometers. But  that  night  she  was  too  much  upset,  she  looked 
without  seeing.  It  bothered  her  immensely  not  to  have  her 
evening  to  herself,  and,  in  her  secret  revolt,  she  felt  a  longing  to 
do  something  foolish.  A  fat  lot  of  use  it  was  to  have  men  well  off! 
She  had  just  run  through  the  prince  and  Steiner,  indulging  all 
her  childish  caprices,  without  in  the  least  knowing  where  the 
money  had  gone  to.  Her  rooms  in  the  Boulevard  Haussmann 
were  not  even  now  completely  furnished;  the  drawing-room 
alone,  all  in  crimson  satin,  but  too  full  and  too  lavishly  decorated, 
had  a  certain  effect.  At  this  time,  too,  her  creditors  were  dunning 
her  more  than  ever  before,  when  she  was  quite  without  means, 
and  this  surprised  her  immensely,  for  she  looked  upon  herself  as 
a  model  of  economy.  For  a  month  past,  that  old  thief  Steiner 
could  only  find  a  thousand  francs  with  the  greatest  difficulty  on 
occasions  when  she  threatened  to  kick  him  out  of  the  place  if 
he  did  not  bring  the  money.  As  for  Muff  at,  he  was  a  fool;  he 
had  no  idea  of  what  a  man  should  give  a  woman  like  her,  so  she 
could  not  blame  him  for  his  stinginess. 

Ah !  she  would  have  sent  the  whole  of  them  to  the  right  about 
if  she  had  not  all  day  kept  repeating  to  herself  a  number  of  wise 
maxims !  One  must  be  reasonable,  Zoe  was  in  the  habit  of  saying 
to  her  every  morning,  and  she  herself  had  ever  present  to  her 
mind  a  sacred  recollection,  the  royal  vision  of  Chamont,  con- 
stantly invoked  and  embellished.  And  that  was  why,  in  spite 
of  a  tremor  of  suppressed  rage,  she  walked  submissively  along, 
leaning  on  the  count's  arm,  going  from  one  shop  window  to  another 
in  the  midst  of  the  now  less  frequent  passers-by.  Outside,  the 
foot-pavement  was  gradually  drying,  a  cool  breeze  entered  the 
Passage,  sending  before  it  the  hot  air  collected  beneath  the  glass 
roof,  and  creating  quite  a  commotion  among  the  coloured  lamps, 
the  rows  of  gas-jets,  and  the  monstrous  fan  flaming  away  like 
fire-works.  A  waiter  was  turning  out  the  lights  at  the  door  of  the 
restaurant,  whilst  in  the  empty  and  brilliantly  illuminated  shops, 
the  immovable  shop-women  seemed  sleeping  with  their  eyes  open. 

"Oh!  the  love!"  exclaimed  Nana,  glancing  in  at  the  last  win- 

CI793 


NANA 

dow,  and  returning  a  few  steps  to  admire  a  porcelain  greyhound, 
which  was  raising  its  paw  over  a  nest  hidden  among  some  roses. 

They  at  length  quitted  the  Passage,  and  she  would  not  take 
a  cab.  It  was  very  nice  out  of  doors,  said  she;  besides,  there 
was  no  occasion  to  hurry,  it  would  be  delightful  to  walk  home. 
Then,  when  they  had  got  as  far  as  the  Cafe  Anglais,  she  longed 
to  have  some  oysters,  saying  that  she  had  eaten  nothing  since 
the  morning,  on  account  of  little  Louis's  illness.  Muffat  did  not 
like  to  disappoint  her.  As  yet,  he  had  not  ventured  much  about 
with  her  in  public,  so  he  asked  for  a  private  room,  and  hurried 
along  the  corridor.  She  followed  him  slowly,  like  a  woman 
thoroughly  acquainted  with  the  establishment,  and  they  were 
just  on  the  point  of  entering  an  apartment  of  which  a  waiter 
had  opened  the  door,  when  a  man  suddenly  rushed  out  of  an 
adjoining  room,  from  which  issued  a  regular  tempest  of  shouts 
and  laughter.  It  was  Daguenet. 

"Hallo!  Nana!"  cried  he. 

The  count  quickly  vanished  inside  his  room,  leaving  the  door 
ajar.  But,  as  his  broad  back  disappeared,  Daguenet  winked  his 
eye,  and  added  jokingly: 

"The  deuce!  you  are  getting  on;  you  take  them  from  the 
Tuileries  now!" 

Nana  smiled,  and  placed  her  finger  on  her  lips  to  make  him 
hold  his  tongue.  She  saw  that  he  was  a  bit  on,  but  was  happy 
all  the  same  at  meeting  him,  still  keeping  a  little  corner  in  her 
heart  for  him,  in  spite  of  his  shabby  behaviour  in  not  recognizing 
her  when  he  was  in  the  company  of  ladies. 

"What  are  you  doing  now?"  she  inquired  in  a  friendly  way. 

"  I  am  turning  over  a  new  leaf.  In  fact,  I  am  seriously  think- 
ing of  getting  married." 

She  shrugged  her  shoulders  with  a  look  of  pity.  But  he,  con- 
tinuing his  joking  tone,  said  that  it  was  not  a  life  worth  living 
just  to  earn  on  the  Bourse  barely  sufficient  to  pay  for  the  bou- 
quets he  gave  to  his  lady  friends,  in  order  that  they  should  not 
think  him  mean.  His  three  hundred  thousand  francs  had  only 
lasted  him  eighteen  months.  He  intended  to  be  more  practical. 
He  would  marry  a  big  dowry  and  die  a  prefect  like  his  father. 
Nana  continued  to  smile  incredulously.  She  nodded  her  head  in 
the  direction  of  the  room  he  had  just  left. 

"Whom  are  you  with?" 


\ 


NANA 

"Oh!  quite  a  party,"  said  he,  forgetting  his  projects  in  a  burst 
of  intoxication.  "Just  fancy,  Lea  is  relating  her  journey  in 
Egypt.  It's  awfully  funny!  There's  a  certain  story  of  a 
bath  — " 

And  he  related  the  story.  Nana  complaisant ly  waited  to  hear 
it.  They  had  ended  by  leaning  against  the  walls  of  the  corridor, 
one  in  front  of  the  other.  Jets  of  gas  were  flaring  beneath  the 
low  ceiling,  a  vague  odour  of  cookery  hung  about  the  folds  of  the 
hangings.  Now  and  then,  in  order  to  hear  themselves  above  the 
occasionally  increasing  noise,  they  were  obliged  to  put  their  faces 
close  together.  Every  few  seconds,  a  waiter  laden  with  dishes, 
finding  the  way  blocked  up,  was  forced  to  disturb  the  pair.  But 
they,  without  interrupting  themselves,  squeezed  close  up  against 
the  walls,  calmly  conversing  together  amidst  the  din  caused  by 
the  customers,  and  the  interruptions  of  the  servants. 

"Look  there,"  whispered  the  young  man,  pointing  to  the  door 
of  the  room  Muffat  had  entered. 

They  both  watched.  The  door  shook  softly,  as  though  moved 
by  some  gentle  breeze;  then  it  slowly  closed,  without  the  least 
sound.  They  exchanged  a  silent  laugh.  The  count  must  cut  a 
funny  figure,  all  alone  there  by  himself. 

"By  the  way,"  asked  she,  "have  you  read  the  article  Fauchery 
has  written  about  me?" 

"Yes,  the  'Golden  Fly,'"  replied  Daguenet.  "I  did  not  speak 
of  it,  as  I  though  you  might  not  like  it." 

"Not  like  it,  why?    It's  a  very  long  article." 

She  felt  flattered  by  being  written  about  in  the  "Figaro." 
Without  the  explanations  of  Francis,  her  hairdresser,  who  had 
brought  her  the  paper,  she  would  not  have  known  that  she  was 
the  person  alluded  to.  Daguenet  watched  her  from  out  the 
corner  of  his  eye,  with  a  sneer  on  his  face.  Well,  as  she  was 
pleased,  every  one  else  ought  to  be. 

"By  your  leave!"  cried  a  waiter,  as  he  passed  between  them, 
holding  in  both  hands  a  magnum  of  champagne  in  ice. 

Nana  moved  a  step  in  the  direction  of  the  room  where  Muffat 
awaited  her. 

"Well!  good-bye,"  said  Daguenet.    "Go  back  to  your  cuckold." 

"Why  do  you  call  him  a  cuckold?"  she  inquired,  standing  still 
again. 

"Because  he  is  a  cuckold,  of  course!" 


NANA 

Very  much  interested,  she  returned  to  him,  and,  leaning  up 
against  the  wall  as  before,  merely  said,  "Ah!" 

"What,  didn't  you  know  it?  His  wife  has  succumbed  to 
Fauchery,  my  dear.  It  probably  first  took  place  when  they 
were  staying  together  in  the  country.  Fauchery  left  me  just 
now  as  I  was  coming  here,  and  I  fancy  they  have  arranged  a 
meeting  at  his  place  for  to-night.  They  have  invented  some 
journey,  I  believe." 

For  some  minutes  Nana  remained  dumb  with  emotion.  "I 
thought  as  much!"  said  she  at  length,  slapping  her  thighs.  "I 
guessed  it  the  first  time  I  saw  her,  you  recollect,  when  we  passed 
them  on  that  country  road.  Is  it  possible,  a  respectable  woman 
to  deceive  her  husband,  and  with  such  a  dirty  blackguard  as 
Fauchery!  He'll  teach  her  some  fine  things." 

"Oh!"  murmured  Daguenet  maliciously,  "this  isn't  her  first 
trial  by  a  long  way.  She  knows  perhaps  as  much  as  he  does." 

"Really?  Well,  they're  a  nice  lot!  it's  too  abominable!"  she 
exclaimed,  indignantly. 

"By  your  leave!"  cried  another  waiter,  passing  between  them, 
laden  with  several  more  bottles  of  wine. 

Daguenet  walked  with  her  towards  her  room,  and  then  held 
her  for  a  moment  by  the  hand.  He  assumed  his  crystal-toned 
voice  —  a  voice  that  sounded  like  a  harmonica,  and  which  was 
the  cause  of  his  great  success  among  the  ladies. 

"Good-bye,  darling.    You  know  I  love  you  always." 

She  released  herself;  and  smiling  on  him,  her  voice  drowned 
by  a  thunder  of  cries  and  bravos  which  shook  the  door  of  the 
room  in  which  the  party  was  being  held,  she  said: 

"Don't  be  a  fool;  that's  all  over  now.  But,  all  the  same,  come 
and  see  me  one  of  these  days.  We  can  have  a  long  chat."  Then, 
becoming  very  serious,  she  added,  in  the  highly  indignant  tone  of 
a  most  respectable  woman,  "Ah!  he's  a  cuckold.  Well!  my  boy, 
that's  a  confounded  nuisance.  I've  always  felt  the  greatest  dis- 
gust for  a  cuckold." 

When  she  at  length  entered  the  room,  she  found  Muffat,  with 
pale  face  and  trembling  hands,  resignedly  sitting  on  a  narrow 
sofa.  He  did  not  utter  a  single  reproach.  She,  dreadfully  excited, 
was  divided  between  feelings  of  pity  and  contempt.  The  poor 
man,  who  was  so  shamefully  deceived  by  a  wicked  woman! 
She  had  a  longing  to  put  her  arms  round  his  neck,  and  to  console 


NANA 

him.  But  yet  it  was  only  just;  he  was  such  a  fool  with  women, 
it  would  be  a  lesson  for  him.  Her  pity,  however,  got  the  better 
of  her.  She  did  not  send  him  off,  after  having  her  oysters,  as  she 
had  intended  doing.  They  remained  a  quarter  of  an  hour  longer 
at  the  Cafe  Anglais,  and  then  went  home  together  to  the 
Boulevard  Haussmann.  It  was  eleven  o'clock;  by  midnight  she 
would  easily  discover  some  pleasant  means  of  getting  rid  of 
him. 

When  she  was  in  the  anteroom  she  prudently  gave  Zoe  some 
instructions. 

"You  must  watch  for  him,  and  when  he  comes  tell  him  not  to 
make  any  noise,  if  the  other  one  is  still  with  me." 

"But  where  shall  I  put  him,  madame?" 

"Keep  him  in  the  kitchen;  that  will  be  the  safest." 

Muffat  was  taking  off  his  overcoat  in  the  bedroom.  A  big 
fire  was  burning  in  the  grate.  It  was  the  same  room,  with  its 
violet  ebony  furniture,  its  hangings  and  chair  coverings  of  figured 
damask,  large  blue  flowers  on  a  grey  ground.  On  two  occasions 
Nana  had  thought  of  having  it  altered  —  the  first  time  she  wished 
it  to  be  all  in  black  velvet,  the  second  in  white  satin,  with  rose- 
coloured  ribbons;  but  as  soon  as  Stehrer  consented,  she  squandered 
the  money  she  obtained  from  him  to  pay  for  it.  All  she  had  added 
was  a  tiger  skin  in  front  of  the  fire-place,  and  a  crystal  lamp  that 
hung  from  the  ceiling. 

"I'm  not  at  all  sleepy;  I'm  not  going  to  bed  yet,"  said  Nana, 
as  soon  as  they  had  shut  themselves  in. 

The  count  obeyed  her  with  the  submission  of  a  man  who  is  no 
longer  afraid  of  being  seen.  His  sole  anxiety  was  not  to  anger  her. 

"As  you  please,"  he  murmured. 

However,  he  took  off  his  boots,  before  sitting  down  in  front  of 
the  fire.  One  of  Nana's  delights  was  to  undress  herself  opposite 
her  wardrobe,  which  had  a  glass  door  in  which  she  could  see  her-/  / 
self  full  length.  She  would  remove  everything,  and  would  then 
become  lost  in  self-contemplation.  A  passion  which  she  had  for  { 
her  own  person  —  a  rapturous  admiration  of  her  satin-like  skin 
and  the  suppleness  of  her  form  —  would  root  her  there,  serious 
and  attentive,  absorbed  in  a  love  of  herself.  The  hairdresser 
would  at  times  enter  the  room  and  find  her  thus  occupied,  with- 
out her  even  turning  her  head.  Then  Count  Muffat  would  fly 
into  a  passion,  and  she  would  be  greatly  surprised.  What  was 

£183:1 


NANA 

the  matter  with  him?  It  wasn't  for  the  benefit  of  others  that  she 
did  it;  it  was  for  her  own. 

That  night  she  had  lighted  all  the  candles,  and,  as  she  was 
about  to  let  her  last  garment  drop  from  her  shoulders,  she  stood 
still,  pre-occupied  for  a  moment,  having  a  question  at  the  tip  of 
her  tongue. 

"Have  you  read  the  article  in  the  Tigaro'?  The  paper  is 
there,  on  the  table."  The  recollection  of  Daguenet's  sneering 
laugh  had  returned  to  her;  she  was  filled  with  a  doubt.  If  that 
Fauchery  had  been  slandering  her,  she  would  have  her  revenge. 
"They  say  that  it  refers  to  me,"  she  resumed,  affecting  an  air 
of  indifference.  "Well,  what  do  you  think,  ducky?" 

And  slipping  off  her  chemise  she  remained  naked,  waiting  until 
Muffat  had  finished  reading.  Muff  at  read  slowly.  Fauchery 's 
article,  entitled  the  "Golden  Fly,"  was  the  story  of  a  girl  born 
from  four  or  five  generations  of  drunkards,  her  blood  tainted  by 
a  long  succession  of  misery  and  drink,  which,  in  her,  had  trans- 
formed itself  into  a  nervous  decay  of  her  sex.  She  had  sprouted 
on  the  pavement  of  one  of  the  Paris  suburbs;  and,  tall,  hand- 
some, of  superb  flesh,  the  same  as  a  plant  growing  on  a  dunghill, 
she  avenged  the  rogues  and  vagabonds  from  whom  she  sprung. 
With  her,  the  putrefaction  that  was  left  to  ferment  among  the 
people,  rose  and  polluted  the  aristocracy.  She  became,  without 
herself  wishing  it,  one  of  nature's  instruments,  a  ferment  of 
destruction,  corrupting  and  disorganizing  Paris.  It  was  at  the 
end  of  the  article  that  the  comparison  with  the  fly  occurred  —  a 
fly  of  the  colour  of  the  sun,  which  had  flown  from  out  some  filth 
—  a  fly  that  gathered  death  on  the  carrion  left  by  the  roadside,  and 
that,  buzzing  and  dancing,  and  emitting  a  sparkle  of  precious 
stones,  poisoned  men  by  merely  touching  them  in  their  palaces 
which  it  entered  by  the  windows. 

"Muffat  raised  his  head  and  looked  fixedly  into  the  fire. 

"Well,  what  do  you  think  of  it?"  asked  Nana. 

But  he  did  not  answer.  He  appeared  inclined  to  read  the 
article  over  again.  A  cold  shudder  passed  from  his  head  to  his 
shoulders.  The  article  was  written  in  a  most  diabolical  style, 
with  capering  phrases,  an  excess  of  unexpected  words  and  strange 
comparisons.  However,  he  remained  very  much  struck  by  it; 
it  had  abruptly  aroused  in  him  all  that  which,  for  some  months 
past,  he  had  not  cared  to  disturb. 


NANA 

Then  he  raised  his  eyes.  Nana  was  absorbed  in  her  admiration 
of  herself.  She  had  bent  her  neck  and  was  looking  attentively 
in  the  glass  at  a  little  brown  mole  on  her  side,  and  she  touched  it 
with  the  tip  of  her  finger,  making  it  stand  out  more  by  slightly 
leaning  back,  thinking,  no  doubt,  that  it  looked  droll  and  pretty. 
Then  she  amused  herself  by  studying  other  parts  of  her  body  with 
the  vicious  curiosity  of  her  childhood.  It  always  surprised  her 
thus  to  see  herself;  she  appeared  amazed  and  fascinated  like  a 
young  girl  on  first  discovering  her  puberty.  After  slowly  spread- 
ing out  her  arms  to  develop  her  plump  Venus-like  frame,  she  ended 
by  swinging  herself  from  right  to  left,  her  knees  wide  apart,  her 
body  bent  back  over  her  loins,  with  the  continual  quivering  move- 
ment of  an  alme  dancing  the  stomach  dance. 

Muffat  watched  her.  She  frightened  him.  The  newspaper  had 
fallen  from  his  hands.  In  that  moment  of  clear  understanding, 
he  despised  himself.  It  was  true.  In  three  months  she  had  cor- 
rupted his  life,  he  already  felt  tainted  to  his  very  marrow  by  an 
abomination  which  he  would  never  himself  have  dreamt  of.  At 
that  hour  everything  was  beginning  to  fester  within  him.  For 
an  instant  he  was  conscious  of  the  results  of  sin,  he  beheld  the 
disorganization  wrought  by  this  ferment,  himself  poisoned,  his 
family  destroyed,  a  corner  of  society  cracking  and  tumbling  into 
ruins.  And,  not  being  able  to  withdraw  his  gaze,  he  watched  Nana 
fixedly,  and  sought  to  add  to  his  disgust. 

Nana  was  not  moving  now.  With  an  arm  passed  behind  her 
neck,  and  one  hand  clasped  in  the  other,  she  was  leaning  back 
her  head,  with  her  elbows  wide  apart.  He  caught  sight  obliquely 
of  her  half-closed  eyes,  her  slightly  opened  mouth,  her  face  covered 
with  a  bewitching  smile,  her  firm  amazonian  breasts  with  their 
sturdy  muscles  quivering  beneath  the  satin  of  her  skin,  and  behind 
her  her  loose  yellow  hair  covering  her  back  with  a  mane  like  a 
lioness.  Muffat  followed  this  delicate  profile,  these  flakes  of  rosy 
flesh  disappearing  in  a  golden  shadow,  these  curves  which  the 
light  of  the  candles  caused  to  shine  like  silk.  He  thought  of  his 
old  horror  of  woman,  the  monster  of  Scripture,  lecherous  and  bestial. 
Nana  was  covered  all  over  with  a  reddish  down  which  gave  to  her 
skin  the  appearance  of  velvet;  whilst,  in  her  flanks  and  mare- 
like  thighs,  in  the  thick  rolls  of  flesh  which  veiled  her  sex  with 
their  troubled  shadow,  there  was  something  of  the  beast.  It 
was  the  golden  insect,  unconscious  of  its  power,  but  yet  de- 

£185:1 


NANA 

stroying  the  world  with  its  smell  alone.  Muffat  still  continued 
to  look,  so  completely  possessed  by  the  sight  that,  having  for 
a  moment  lowered  his  eyelids  and  withdrawn  his  gaze,  the  animal 
reappeared  in  the  depths  of  the  darkness,  enlarged,  terrible, 
and  with  its  posture  exaggerated.  And  it  would  remain  there, 
before  his  eyes,  in  his  very  flesh,  as  it  were,  for  evermore. 

Nana  was  now  rolling  herself  up.  A  tremor  of  endearment 
seemed  to  have  passed  through  her  limbs.  With  moistened  eyes 
she  tried  to  become  smaller,  as  though  to  feel  herself  all  the  better. 
Then  she  unclasped  her  hands  behind  her  neck,  and  let  them  slip 
slowly  down  to  her  breasts,  which  she  pressed  in  a  nervous  em- 
brace. And,  satiated,  melting  into  a  caress  of  her  whole  body, 
she  fondlingly  rubbed  her  cheeks,  right  and  left,  against  her 
shoulders.  Her  rapacious  mouth  breathed  desire  upon  her.  She 
pouted  her  lips  and  kissed  herself  longingly  close  to  her  arm-pit, 
smiling  the  while  at  that  other  Nana  who  was  also  kissing  herself 
in  the  looking-glass. 

Then  Muffat  uttered  a  low  and  prolonged  sigh.  This  self- 
enjoyment  exasperated  him.  All  his  reason  was  abruptly  swept 
away  as  though  by  a  gale  of  wind.  He  seized  Nana  round  the 
waist,  and,  in  an  outburst  of  brutal  passion,  flung  her  on  to  the 
carpet. 

"Let  me  be,"  cried  she  —  "you  have  hurt  me!" 

He  was  conscious  of  his  defeat.  He  knew  that  she  was  stupid, 
ribald  and  deceitful,  and  he  desired  her  all  the  same,  even  poisonous 
though  she  might  be. 

"Oh!  it's  ridiculous!"  said  she,  in  a  fury,  when  she  had  regained 
her  feet. 

However,  she  became  calmer.  He  would  soon  be  going  off. 
After  putting  on  a  night-dress  trimmed  with  lace,  she  sat  down 
on  the  rug  before  the  fire.  It  was  her  favourite  place.  As  she 
again  questioned  him  respecting  Fauchery's  article,  Muffat  gave 
vague  answers,  anxious  to  avoid  a  scene.  Then  she  lapsed  into 
a  long  silence,  thinking  of  some  means  of  getting  rid  of  the  count. 

She  wanted  to  do  it  pleasantly,  for  she  was  a  good-natured  girl, 
and  was  sorry  to  pain  others,  and  more  especially  him,  because 
he  was  a  cuckold  —  a  circumstance  that  had  led  to  making  her 
feel  more  kindly  disposed  towards  him. 

"So  it's  to-morrow  morning,"  she  at  length  observed,  "that 
you  are  expecting  your  wife?" 


NANA 

Muffat  had  thrown  himself  into  an  easy-chair.  He  looked 
drowsy  and  tired.  He  nodded  his  head.  Nana  watched  him 
seriously,  racking  her  brain  the  while.  Still  seated  on  the  rug, 
amidst  the  rumpled  lace,  she  was  nursing  one  of  her  bare  feet 
between  her  hands,  and  kept  turning  it  about  mechanically. 

"How  long  have  you  been  married?"  asked  she. 

"Nineteen  years,"  replied  the  count. 

"Ah!  And  your  wife,  is  she  nice?  Do  you  get  on  well 
together?" 

He  did  not  answer.  Then,  in  an  embarrassed  sort  of  way,  he 
said,  "You  know,  I  have  asked  you  never  to  speak  of  such 


matters." 


"Really!  And  why,  pray?"  she  cried,  already  beginning  to 
lose  her  temper.  "I  sha'n't  eat  your  wife  by  speaking  of  her, 
that's  very  certain.  My  dear  fellow,  all  women  are  alike." 

Here  she  paused,  afraid  of  saying  too  much.  Only,  she  assumed 
a  superior  sort  of  an  air,  as  she  thought  herself  exceedingly  kind. 
The  poor  man,  one  ought  not  to  be  too  hard  on  him.  Besides, 
a  merry  idea  had  just  occurred  to  her.  She  smiled  as  she  critically 
examined  him.  She  resumed, 

"  I  say,  I  haven't  told  you  the  report  that  Fauchery  has  spread 
about  you  —  he's  a  regular  viper!  I've  no  ill-feeling  against  him, 
because  his  article  might  be  true;  but,  all  the  same,  he's  a  regular 
viper."  And  laughing  boisterously,  and  letting  go  of  her  foot, 
she  crawled  along  the  rug  and  leant  her  bosom  against  the  count's 
knees.  "Only  fancy,  he  swears  you  were  a  perfect  innocent  when 
you  married  your  wife!  Do  you  understand?  Is  it  true? 

She  looked  him  straight  in  the  face,  and  placing  her  hands  on 
his  shoulders,  she  shook  him  to  make  him  confess. 

"Of  course  it  is,"  he  at  length  replied  in  a  solemn  tone  of  voice. 

Then  she  again  rolled  herself  at  his  feet  in  a  wild  fit  of  laughter, 
stuttering  and  slapping  his  legs. 

"No,  it's  not  possible.  Such  a  thing  could  only  happen  to  you. 
You're  a  phenomenon.  But,  my  poor  ducky,  you  must  have 
looked  foolish!  When  a  man  knows  nothing  it's  always  so  funny! 
By  Jove,  I  should  have  liked  to  have  seen  you!  And  did  it  go  off 
all  right?  Tell  me,  oh!  come  now,  tell  me  all  about  it." 

She  pressed  him  with  questions,  asking  everything,  insisting 
on  having  details.  And  she  laughed  so  heartily,  with  such  sud- 
den outbursts  as  made  her  roll  about  in  her  night-dress  —  which 

£187:1 


NANA 

one  moment  slipped  from  her  shoulders,  and  the  next  curled  it- 
self up  under  her,  and  displayed  her  skin  shining  like  gold  in  front 
of  the  blazing  fire  —  that  the  count,  little  by  little,  gave  her  the 
history  of  his  wedding-night.  He  no  longer  felt  any  repugnance, 
and  ended  by  thinking  it  great  fun  to  explain.  He  merely  chose 
his  words,  through  a  remnant  of  shame.  The  young  woman, 
very  excited,  questioned  him  about  the  countess.  She  was  beauti-. 
fully  made,  but  a  regular  icicle,  so  he  pretended. 

"Oh!  you've  no  cause  for  jealousy,"  he  despicably  mur- 
mured. 

Nana  had  left  off  laughing,  and  had  resumed  her  seat,  her  back 
to  the  fire,  and  her  chin  resting  on  her  knees,  round  which  she 
had  clasped  her  hands. 

"My  dear  fellow,  it's  the  greatest  mistake  out  for  a  man  to 
appear  a  ninny  to  his  wife  on  the  first  night,"  declared  she,  in 
a  grave  tone  of  voice. 

"Why?"  asked  the  count,  in  surprise. 

"Because,"  replied  she,  slowly,  like  a  professor. 

She  was  lecturing,  she  wagged  her  head.  However,  she  deigned 
to  explain  herself. 

"You  see,  I  know  all  about  it.  Well!  my  boy,  women  don't 
like  simpletons.  They  say  nothing,  on  account  of  their  modesty, 
you  know;  but  you  may  be  quite  sure  they  think  a  great  deal, 
and,  sooner  or  later,  when  they  haven't  had  what  they  expected, 
they  seek  for  it  elsewhere.  There,  now  you  know  as  much  as  I 
do." 

He  did  not  seem  to  understand,  so  she  was  more  circumstantial. 
She  became  quite  maternal,  and  gave  him  this  lesson  in  a  friendly 
way,  out  of  the  kindness  of  her  heart.  Ever  since  she  had  heard 
that  he  was  a  cuckold,  the  knowledge  of  this  circumstance  worried 
her.  She  had  a  hankering  to  discuss  the  matter  with  him. 

"Well,  really!  I've  been  talking  of  things  that  don't  concern 
me.  What  I  say  is  simply  because  I  want  every  one  to  be  happy. 
We're  merely  having  a  chat,  aren't  we?  Come,  now,  you  must 
answer  me  truly." 

But  she  interrupted  herself  to  change  her  position.  The  fire 
was  so  fierce. 

"By  Jove!  isn't  it  hot?  My  back's  quite  cooked.  Wait  a 
moment,  I'll  cook  my  stomach  a  bit  now;  it's  good  for  the 
spasms!" 


NANA 

And  when  she  had  turned  herself  round,  with  her  legs  doubled 
under  her,  she  resumed,  "You  and  your  wife  don't  occupy  the 
same  room,  do  you?" 

"No,  I  assure  you,"  replied  Muffat,  afraid  not  to  answer. 

"And  you  think  that  she's  a  regular  stick?" 

He  affirmatively  bowed  his  head. 

"And  that's  why  you  come  to  me?  Answer  me!  I  sha'n't  be 
angry." 

He  bowed  his  head  again. 

"Very  well!"  concluded  she,  "I  thought  as  much.  Ah!  poor 
fellow!  You  know  my  aunt,  Madame  Lerat?  Next  time  she 
comes  get  her  to  tell  you  the  story  of  the  green-grocer  who  lives 
in  her  street.  Just  fancy,  the  green-grocer  —  Drat  it!  the  fire 
is  hot;  I  must  turn  round  again.  I'll  cook  my  left  side  this  time." 

As  she  presented  her  hip  to  the  flames,  a  funny  idea  seized  hold 
of  her,  and  she  joked  herself  in  a  jolly  sort  of  way,  delighted  at 
seeing  how  plump  and  rosy  she  looked  in  the  reflection  of  the  fire. 

"  I  say!  I'm  just  like  a  goose.  Yes!  that's  it  —  a  goose  roasting. 
I  turn,  I  turn.  Really,  I'm  cooking  in  my  own  juice." 

Again  she  laughed  aloud,  when  suddenly  there  was  a  sound 
of  voices  and  of  closing  doors.  Muffat,  surprised,  interrogated 
her  with  a  look.  She  at  once  became  serious,  and  there  was  an 
anxious  expression  on  her  face.  It  was  no  doubt  Zoe's  cat,  a 
confounded  beast  that  was  always  breaking  everything.  Half 
past  twelve.  Whatever  had  she  been  thinking  of,  wasting  her 
time  in  working  for  her  cuckold's  happiness?  Now  that  the 
other  one  was  there  she  must  get  rid  of  him,  and  quickly,  too. 

"What  were  you  saying?"  asked  the  count  complaisantly, 
delighted  at  finding  her  so  amiable. 

But  in  her  desire  to  send  him  off,  her  humour  quickly  changed. 
She  was  coarse,  and  no  longer  minced  her  words. 

"Ah!  yes,  the  green-grocer  and  his  wife.  Well!  my  boy,  they 
never  got  on  together,  not  a  bit!  She,  you  know,  expected  all 
sorts  of  things;  but  he  was  a  ninny.  And  so  it  went  on  till  it 
ended  like  this  —  he,  thinking  her  a  stick,  went  with  a  lot  of 
strumpets,  and  got  more  than  he  bargained  for;  whilst  she,  on 
her  side,  consoled  herself  with  some  fellows  who  knew  a  trifle 
more  than  her  simpleton  of  a  husband.  And  it  always  ends  like 
that  when  you  don't  understand  each  other.  I  know  it 
does!" 


NANA 

Muffat  paled,  understanding  at  last  her  allusions,  and  wished 
to  make  her  leave  off.  But  she  intended  to  have  her  say. 

"No,  hold  your  row!  If  you  were  not  all  a  set  of  fools,  you 
would  be  just  as  nice  with  your  wives  as  you  are  with  us;  and 
if  your  wives  were  not  a  lot  of  geese,  they  would  take  the  same 
trouble  to  keep  you  to  themselves  that  we  take  to  hook  you. 
But  you  all  give  yourselves  such  confounded  airs.  There,  my 
boy;  put  that  in  your  pipe  and  smoke  it." 

"Do  not  talk  about  respectable  women,"  said  he,  severely. 
"You  do  not  know  anything  about  them." 

On  hearing  this,  Nana  rose  on  her  knees. 

"I  don't  know  anything  about  them!  But  they're  not  even 
clean,  your  respectable  women!  No,  they're  not  even  clean! 
I  defy  you  to  find  one  who  would  dare  to  show  herself  as  I  am 
here.  Really,  you  make  me  laugh,  with  your  respectable  women! 
Don't  drive  me  too  hard;  don't  force  me  to  say  things  that  I 
should  regret  afterwards." 

For  sole  rejoinder,  the  count  muttered  a  foul  word  between 
his  teeth.  Nana,  in  her  turn,  became  deadly  pale.  She  looked 
at  him  for  a  few  seconds  without  speaking.  Then,  in  a  clear 
voice,  she  asked, 

"What  would  you  do  if  your  wife  deceived  you?" 

He  made  a  menacing  gesture. 

"Well!  and  I,  supposing  I  deceived  you?" 

"Oh!  you,"  he  murmured,  shrugging  his  shoulders. 

Nana  was  certainly  not  unfeeling.  Ever  since  the  first  words, 
she  had  been  resisting  a  desire  to  tell  him  of  his  cuckoldom  to 
his  face.  She  would  have  liked  to  have  confessed  him  quietly. 
But  he  exasperated  her;  she  must  put  an  end  to  it. 

"Therefore,  my  boy,"  she  resumed,  "I  don't  know  what  the 
devil  you're  doing  here.  You've  done  nothing  but  pester  me  for 
the  last  two  hours.  So  go  and  join  your  wife,  who's  consoling 
herself  with'  Fauchery.  Yes,  I  know  what  I'm  saying;  in  the  Rue 
Taitbout,  at  the  corner  of  the  Rue  de  Provence.  I  give  you  the 
address,  you  see."  Then,  seeing  Muffat  rise  on  his  feet,  stagger- 
ing like  an  ox  that  had  just  received  a  stunning  blow,  she  added 
triumphantly,  "Ah!  they're  getting  on  well,  your  respectable 
women!  They  even  interfere  with  us  now,  and  take  our  lovers!" 

But  she  was  unable  to  continue.  In  a  terrible  passion  he 
threw  her  full  length  on  the  floor,  and  raising  his  heel,  was  about 

CI903 


NANA 

to  crush  her  face  to  silence  her.  For  the  moment  she  had  an 
awful  fright;  but  he,  blinded,  and  as  though  mad,  left  her,  and 
rushed  helplessly  about  the  room.  Then  the  choking  silence  he 
maintained,  the  sight  of  the  internal  struggle  which  shook  his 
frame,  brought  tears  to  her  eyes.  She  felt  a  mortal  regret;  and 
curling  herself  up  before  the  fire,  so  as  to  cook  her  right  side,  she 
undertook  to  console  him. 

"  I  assure  you,  darling,  I  thought  you  knew  of  it.  Otherwise, 
I  would  certainly  not  have  spoken.  Then,  after  all,  perhaps  it 
isn't  true.  I'm  not  sure  of  anything.  I  merely  heard  it  —  people 
talk  about  it;  but  that  proves  nothing,  does  it?  Ah!  really  now, 
you're  very  stupid  to  be  put  out  about  it.  If  I  was  a  man,  I 
wouldn't  care  a  tinker's  curse  for  any  woman!  Women,  my  boy, 
high  or  low,  are  all  the  same  —  all  loose  fish;  it's  six  of  one  and 
half-a-dozen  of  the  other." 

She  went  in  for  abusing  women  in  general,  so  as  to  make  the 
blow  less  hard  to  bear;  but  he  did  not  listen  to  her,  he  did  not 
hear  her.  Whilst  stamping  about,  he  had  somehow  or  other 
managed  to  get  on  his  boots  and  his  overcoat.  For  a  moment 
longer  he  wandered  about  the  room;  then,  with  a  last  rush,  as 
though  he  had  only  just  discovered  the  door,  he  disappeared. 
Nana  felt  very  much  put  out. 

"Well!  ta  ta!"  she  continued  aloud,  though  all  alone.  "He's 
polite,  he  is,  when  he's  being  spoken  to!  And  I,  who  was  sweat- 
ing away  to  make  it  up  again  with  him!  Anyhow,  I  was  the 
first  to  hold  out  my  hand.  I  made  quite  enough  excuses,  I  think! 
Besides,  he  shouldn't  have  stopped  here  annoying  me! "  However, 
she  remained  displeased  with  herself,  scratching  her  legs  with 
both  hands;  but  she  at  length  muttered  consolingly, 

"Oh!  dash  it!    It  isn't  my  fault  that  he's  a  cuckold!" 

And,  roasted  on  all  sides,  as  hot  as  a  quail  just  removed  from 
the  spit,  she  jumped  into  bed,  after  ringing  for  Zoe  to  usher  in 
the  other  one,  who  was  waiting  in  the  kitchen. 

Outside,  Muffat  continued  to  hurry  on.  Another  shower  had 
just  fallen.  He  slipped  along  the  greasy  pavement.  As  he 
mechanically  looked  up  in  the  air  he  saw  large  black  clouds 
floating  rapidly  across  the  moon.  At  that  hour  the  Boulevard 
Haussmann  was  almost  deserted.  He  passed  by  the  scaffoldings 
of  the  new  Opera-house,  keeping  in  the  shadow  and  stammering 
disconnected  sentences.  The  girl  lied.  She  had  cruelly  invented 


NANA 

that  to  annoy  him.  He  ought  to  have  crushed  her  head  when 
he  had  it  beneath  his  heel.  It  was  too  shameful.  He  would  never 
touch  her  nor  see  her  again;  if  he  did,  he  would  indeed  be  a  cur. 
And  he  drew  a  long  breath  of  relief  at  his  deliverance.  Ah!  that 
stupid  naked  monster,  cooking  like  a  goost ,  drivelling  about  all 
that  he  had  respected  for  forty  years  past!  The  clouds  had  cleared 
away  from  the  moon,  which  now  lighted  up  the  empty  street. 
He  was  seized  with  fear  and  burst  into  sobs,  suddenly  giving 
way  to  despair,  as  though  he  had  been  precipitated  into  illimit- 
able space. 

"Oh!  heaven!"  he  stammered,  "all  is  over,  there  is  nothing 
more." 

Along  the  Boulevards  a  few  belated  pedestrians  were  hurrying 
home.  The  count  tried  to  compose  himself.  The  girl's  story 
kept  perplexing  his  heated  brain;  he  wished  to  examine  it  calmly. 
That  very  morning  the  countess  was  to  return  from  Madame  de 
Chezelles's  chateau.  There  was  nothing  to  have  prevented  her 
returning  on  the  previous  evening,  and  passing  the  night  with 
that  man.  He  now  recalled  certain  things  that  had  occurred 
during  their  stay  at  Les  Fondettes.  One  night  he  had  found 
Sabine  wandering  about  among  the  trees,  and  she  was  so  agitated 
that  for  some  time  she  was  unable  to  answer  him.  That  man 
was  there,  then.  Why  should  she  not  be  with  him  now?  The 
more  he  thought  of  it,  the  more  it  seemed  to  him  possible.  He 
ended  by  thinking  it  only  natural,  and  even  inevitable.  Whilst 
he  had  been  taking  off  his  coat  at  a  harlot's  his  wife  had  been  dis- 
robing herself  in  a  lover's  bed-chamber;  there  was  nothing  more 
simple  or  more  logical.  And,  as  he  reasoned  thus,  he  forced  him- 
self to  keep  cool.  He  experienced  the  sensation  of  a  fall  into  the 
follies  of  the  flesh,  which,  spreading  and  gaining  on  him,  swept 
the  world  away  from  around  him.  Phantoms,  created  by  his 
heated  imagination,  pursued  him.  Nana  undressed,  abruptly 
evoked  Sabine,  undressed  also.  At  this  vision,  which  gave  the 
two  women  a  like  parentage  of  wantonness  and  the  same  inordinate 
desires,  he  stumbled.  A  cab  passing  along  the  road  nearly  crushed 
him;  some  women,  coming  out  of  a  cafe,  pushed  up  against  him, 
laughing  coarsely.  Then,  again  giving  way  to  tears,  in  spite  of 
his  efforts,  and  not  wishing  to  sob  aloud  before  the  passers-by, 
he  turned  down  a  dark,  empty  street,  the  Rue  Rossini,  where  he 
cried  like  a  child  as  he  moved  past  the  silent  houses. 


NANA 

"All  is  over,"  he  kept  saying  in  a  hollow  voice.  "There  is 
nothing  more,  nothing  more." 

His  tears  so  mastered  him  that  he  leant  against  a  door,  bury- 
ing his  wet  face  in  his  hands.  A  sound  of  footsteps  chased  him 
away.  He  felt  such  shame  and  such  fear  that  he  fled  from  every- 
one, with  the  cautious  tread  of  a  night  prowler.  Whenever  any- 
body passed  him  on  the  pavement  he  tried  to  assume  a  careless 
gait,  as  though  he  imagined  that  his  history  could  be  read  in  the 
movement  of  his  shoulders.  He  had  turned  down  the  Rue  de 
la  Grange-Bateliere  and  reached  the  Faubourg  Montmartre,  but 
the  bright  lights  caused  him  to  retrace  his  footsteps,  and  for  close 
upon  an  hour  he  wandered  thus  about  the  neighbourhood,  choos- 
ing always  the  darkest  turnings.  He  had,  no  doubt,  a  goal  to 
which  his  feet  instinctively  conducted  him,  patiently  and  by  a 
most  circuitous  road.  At  length,  at  the  turn  of  a  street,  he  raised 
his  eyes.  He  had  arrived.  It  was  the  corner  of  the  Rue  Tait- 
bout  and  of  the  Rue  de  Provence.  He  had,  in  the  painful  dis- 
order of  his  brain,  taken  an  hour  to  reach  it,  while  he  might  have 
done  so  in  five  minutes.  One  morning,  in  the  previous  month, 
he  recollected  having  called  on  Fauchery  to  thank  him  for  having 
mentioned  his  name  in  the  description  of  a  ball  at  the  Tuileries. 
The  apartment  was  on  the  first  floor,  with  little  square  windows 
half  hidden  by  the  colossal  sign-board  of  the  shop.  The  last 
window  on  the  left  was  divided  by  a  streak  of  brilliant  light, 
the  ray  of  a  lamp  passing  between  the  partly  closed  curtains. 
And,  with  his  eyes  fixed  on  that  bright  line,  he  stood  absorbed, 
awaiting  something. 

The  moon  had  disappeared  in  an  inky  sky,  from  which  a  driz- 
zling, icy  rain  fell.  Two  o'clock  struck  at  the  church  of  the  Trinity. 
The  Rue  de  Provence  and  the  Rue  Taitbout,  with  their  lighted 
gas-lamps,  disappeared  in  the  distance  in  a  yellow  vapour.  Muffat 
did  not  stir.  That  was  the  room.  He  recollected  it  well,  hung 
in  crimson,  and  with  a  Louis  XIII.  bedstead  at  the  back  of  the 
apartment.  The  lamp  was  probably  to  the  right,  on  the  mantel- 
piece. No  doubt  they  were  in  bed,  for  not  a  shadow  passed  the 
immovable  line  of  light;  and  he,  still  watching,  arranged  a  plan. 
He  would  ring,  and  hastening  upstairs  in  spite  of  the  door-keeper, 
would  burst  into  the  room  and  fall  upon  them  in  bed,  without 
even  giving  them  time  to  disengage  their  arms.  The  knowledge 
that  he  had  no  weapon  arrested  him  for  a  moment.  Then  he 


NANA 

decided  that  he  would  strangle  them.  He  turned  his  plan  over 
in  his  head,  he  perfected  it,  always  awaiting  something,  some  sign, 
to  make  him  certain.  Had  the  shadow  of  a  woman's  form  appeared 
at  that  moment,  he  would  have  rung  the  bell;  but  the  thought  that 
he  was  perhaps  mistaken  froze  him.  What  would  he  be  able  to 
say?  His  doubts  returned  to  him.  His  wife  could  not  be  with 
that  man.  The  idea  was  monstrous  and  impossible;  but  still  he 
stayed  on,  overcome  by  degrees  by  numbness,  succumbing  to 
weakness,  in  that  long  vigil,  to  which  the  fixity  of  his  look  im- 
parted a  sense  of  hallucination. 

The  shower  increased.  Two  police  officers  drew  near,  and  he 
was  obliged  to  leave  the  door-post  against  which  he  had  sought 
shelter.  When  they  had  disappeared  down  the  Rue  de  Provence 
he  returned,  wet  and  shivering.  The  bright  line  still  showed 
across  the  window.  This  time  he  was  going  away,  when  a  shadow 
passed.  The  movement  was  so  rapid  that  he  thought  he  might 
be  mistaken,  but  one  after  another  other  shadows  passed,  and 
there  seemed  quite  a  commotion  in  the  room.  Rivetted  again 
to  the  pavement  opposite,  he  experienced  an  insupportable  sen- 
sation of  burning  in  the  stomach.  Profiles  or  arms  and  legs  came 
and  went.  An  enormous  hand,  bearing  the  silhouette  of  a  water- 
can,  glided  by.  He  distinguished  nothing  clearly,  yet  he  thought 
he  recognised  a  woman's  head  of  hair;  and  he  argued  within 
himself,  it  was  like  Sabine's  head-dress,  only  the  back  of  the  neck 
seemed  broader  than  hers.  But  at  that  hour  he  was  incapable 
of  determining,  he  could  not  tell.  His  stomach  caused  him  so 
much  suffering  that  he  pressed  up  against  a  door,  like  a  shivering 
outcast,  to  obtain  relief  in  the  agony  of  this  frightful  uncertainty. 
Then  as,  in  spite  of  all,  he  could  not  take  his  eyes  from  off  that 
window,  his  anger  melted  into  the  imagination  of  a  moralist.  He 
saw  himself  a  deputy.  He  was  speaking  in  the  Chamber,  inveigh- 
ing against  debauchery,  prophesying  catastrophes,  and  he  re- 
peated the  arguments  in  Fauchery's  article  on  the  poisonous  fly, 
and  declared  that  society  could  no  longer  exist  with  the  manners 
and  customs  of  the  Second  Empire.  This  did  him  some  good. 
The  shadows  had  now  disappeared.  No  doubt  they  had  gone 
back  to  bed.  He,  ever  on  the  watch,  still  waited. 

Three  o'clock  struck,  then  four  o'clock.  He  could  not  tear 
himself  away.  Each  time  a  shower  came  down  he  squeezed  up 
against  the  door-post,  the  rain  beating  on  his  legs.  No  one 

C  1943 


NANA 

passed  by  now.  Occasionally  his  eyes  closed,  as  though  burnt 
by  the  ray  of  light,  on  which,  with  obstinate  folly,  he  persistently 
fixed  them.  Twice  again  did  the  shadows  reappear,  going  through 
the  same  movements,  carrying  the  same  gigantic  water-can;  and 
each  time  afterwards  all  became  still  as  before,  whilst  the  lamp 
continued  to  glimmer  discreetly.  These  shadows  increased  his 
doubts.  Besides,  a  sudden  idea  had  just  appeased  him,  in  defer- 
ring the  hour  of  action.  He  had  merely  to  wait  till  the  woman 
came  out.  He  would  easily  recognise  Sabine.  Nothing  could 
be  simpler,  there  would  be  no  scandal,  and  he  would  no  longer 
be  in  doubt.  All  he  had  to  do  was  to  remain  there.  Of  all  the 
confused  feelings  that  had  hitherto  agitated  him,  he  no  longer 
experienced  anything  but  a  morbid  desire  to  know.  Having 
nothing  to  do,  however,  standing  up  against  that  door,  soon  made 
him  feel  drowsy.  To  keep  himself  awake,  he  tried  to  calculate 
the  time  it  would  be  necessary  for  him  to  wait.  Sabine  was  to 
have  arrived  at  the  station  at  about  nine  o'clock.  That  gave  him 
almost  four  and  a  half  hours.  He  was  full  of  patience.  He  would 
never  have  moved  again,  finding  a  charm  in  fancying  that  his 
night  vigil  would  be  an  eternal  one. 

Suddenly,  the  ray  of  light  disappeared.  This  very  simple 
occurrence  was  an  unexpected  catastrophe  for  him,  something 
disagreeable  and  annoying.  They  had  evidently  turned  out  the 
lamp,  and  were  going  to  sleep.  At  such  an  hour  it  was  only 
natural.  But  he  felt  irritated,  because  that  window,  being  now 
in  darkness,  no  longer  interested  him.  He  watched  it  for  a  quar- 
ter of  an  hour  longer,  then  it  tired  him,  so  he  left  the  doorway  and 
took  a  few  steps  along  the  pavement.  Until  five  o'clock,  he  walked 
to  and  fro,  occasionally  raising  his  eyes.  The  window  remained 
in  the  same  dormant  state;  and  at  times  he  would  ask  himself 
whether  he  had  not  dreamed  that  he  had  seen  shadows  cross 
those  panes.  A  great  fatigue  overwhelmed  him,  which  made 
him  forget  what  he  was  waiting  for  at  that  street-corner,  stumbling 
over  the  paving-stones,  awaking  with  starts  and  the  cold  shiver 
of  a  man  who  no  longer  knows  where  he  is.  What  was  the  good 
of  his  bothering  himself  about  the  matter?  As  the  people  had 
gone  to  sleep,  all  he  had  to  do  was  to  leave  them  in  peace.  Why 
should  he  mix  himself  up  in  their  affairs?  It  was  very  dark,  no 
one  would  know  of  his  having  waited  there;  and  then  all  feeling 
in  him,  even  his  curiosity,  fled,  carried  away  in  a  desire  to  have 

£195:1 


NANA 

done  with  it  all,  and  to  seek  some  solace  elsewhere.  The  cold 
increased,  the  street  became  unbearable.  Twice  he  moved  away, 
then  returned  slowly,  but  only  to  move  away  again,  farther  off. 
It  was  over,  there  was  nothing  more.  He  went  in  the  direction 
of  the  Boulevards,  and  did  not  return. 

He  wandered  silently  through  the  streets.  He  walked  slowly, 
always  with  the  same  step,  and  keeping  close  to  the  wall.  His 
heels  resounded  on  the  pavement;  he  beheld  nothing  but  his 
shadow,  which  turned  at  each  lamp-post,  becoming  larger  and 
smaller.  That  amused  him,  mechanically  occupying  him.  After- 
wards, he  could  never  recall  through  what  streets  he  had  gone; 
he  seemed  to  have  dragged  himself  along  for  hours  in  a  circle. 
One  single  recollection  remained,  and  that  very  clearly.  He  had 
found  himself,  he  could  not  tell  how,  with  his  face  pressed  against 
the  iron  railings  that  closed  the  Passage  des  Panoramas,  clasping 
the  bars  in  his  hands.  He  was  not  shaking  them,  he  was  merely 
trying  to  see  into  the  Passage,  under  the  influence  of  an  emotion, 
with  which  his  heart  was  bursting.  But  he  could  distinguish 
nothing;  darkness  reigned  in  the  deserted  gallery,  whilst  the 
wind  which  entered  by  the  Rue  Saint-Marc  blew  the  dampness 
of  a  cellar  into  his  face.  And  a  strange  infatuation  kept  him  there. 
Then,  awakening  as  though  from  a  dream,  he  was  filled  with  sur- 
prise, and  asked  himself  what  he  was  seeking  at  that  hour,  pressed 
against  those  railings  with  such  a  force,  that  the  bars  had  left 
their  marks  upon  his  face.  And  he  resumed  his  tramp  in  despair, 
his  heart  filled  with  a  great  sadness,  as  if  betrayed  and  alone  for 
evermore  in  all  that  darkness. 

Day  at  length  broke,  and  to  the  winter  night  there  succeeded 
that  dull  light  which  looks  so  melancholy  on  the  muddy  pave- 
ment of  Paris.  Muffat  had  returned  into  the  large  new  roads 
that  were  being  made  around  the  scaffoldings  of  the  new  Opera- 
house.  Soaked  by  the  showers,  broken  up  by  the  heavy  carts, 
the  chalky  soil  had  become  changed  into  a  miry  lake.  And, 
without  looking  where  he  placed  his  feet,  he  continued  walking 
on,  slipping,  and  with  difficulty  keeping  his  legs.  The  awaken- 
ing of  Paris,  the  gangs  of  scavengers  and  the  early  groups  of  work- 
men, brought  him  a  fresh  worry  as  the  day  advanced.  He  was 
stared  at  with  surprise,  with  his  wild  appearance,  his  muddy  clothes, 
and  his  hat  soaked  with  the  rain.  For  a  long  time  he  sought 
refuge  against  the  palings,  among  the  scaffolding.  In  his  empty 

CI963 


NANA 

head  one  idea  alone  remained,  which  was  that  he  was  very 
miserable. 

Then  his  thoughts  turned  to  God.  The  sudden  idea  of  divine 
assistance,  of  a  superhuman  consolation,  surprised  him,  like 
something  extraordinary  and  unexpected.  It  awakened  in  his 
mind  the  picture  of  M.  Venot.  He  beheld  his  plump  little  person, 
his  decayed  teeth.  For  certain,  M.  Venot,  whom  for  months 
past  he  had  been  grieving  by  not  going  near  him,  would  be 
very  happy  were  he  now  to  knock  at  his  door,  and  weep  on  his 
breast.  At  other  times  God  had  always  been  merciful  to  him. 
At  the  least  sorrow,  or  the  smallest  obstacle  encountered  in 
life,  he  would  enter  a  church,  and,  kneeling,  would  humble  him- 
self before  the  Supreme  Being,  and  he  would  come  out  fortified 
by  prayer,  ready  to  enjoy  the  sweets  of  life,  with  the  sole  desire 
for  the  salvation  of  his  soul;  but  now,  he  could  only  pray  by  fits 
and  starts,  just  when  a  fear  of  hell  seized  upon  him.  He  had 
given  way  to  a  great  indolence.  Nana  interfered  with  his  duties, 
and  the  thought  of  God  surprised  him.  Why  had  he  not  thought 
of  the  Almighty  in  the  first  instance,  during  that  frightful  crisis 
in  which  his  weak  humanity  succumbed? 

Then,  with  feeble  footsteps,  he  sought  a  church.  He  could 
remember  nothing.  The  early  hour  seemed  to  alter  the  streets. 
As  he  turned  the  corner  of  the  Rue  de  la  Chassee  d' Antin,  however, 
he  caught  sight  of  the  church  of  the  Trinity  in  the  distance, 
its  steeple  seen  very  indistinctly  in  the  fog.  The  white  statues 
overlooking  the  naked  garden  appeared  like  so  many  shining 
Venuses  among  the  faded  yellow  leaves  of  a  park.  Beneath  the 
porch  he  paused  a  moment  to  take  breath,  fatigued  by  the  ascent 
of  the  high  flight  of  steps.  Then  he  entered.  The  church  was 
very  cold,  the  great  stove  having  been  extinguished  the  previous 
evening,  and  the  tall  arches  were  filled  with  a  a  fine  mist,  which 
had  filtered  in  through  the  apertures  of  the  glass  windows.  A 
shadow  hung  over  the  lower  part.  Not  a  soul  was  there  beyond 
a  beadle,  who,  in  the  midst  of  that  semi-darkness,  dragged  his 
feet  over  the  stones  in  the  sullenness  of  the  awaking  hour.  Muffat, 
after  knocking  up  against  a  number  of  chairs,  feeling  lost,  his 
heart  fit  to  burst,  had  fallen  on  his  knees  against  the  railings  of 
a  little  side  chapel,  close  to  a  holy-water  font.  He  had  clasped 
his  hands,  trying  to  find  a  prayer  in  which  he  could  pour  forth 
his  very  soul,  but  his  lips  alone  muttered  words.  His  mind  was 


NANA 

elsewhere  —  outside,  following  the  streets,  without  repose,  as 
though  beneath  the  lash  of  some  implacable  necessity;  and  he 
repeated:  "O  Lord  help  me!  O  God,  do  not  abandon  your  crea- 
ture, who  abandons  himself  to  your  justice!  O  merciful  Father, 
I  adore  you;  will  you  let  me  perish  beneath  the  blows  of  your 
enemies!"  Nothing  seemed  to  answer.  The  shadow  and  the  cold 
hung  about  his  shoulders.  The  noise  of  the  beadle  walking  in  the 
distance  continued,  and  prevented  him  from  praying.  He  heard 
nought  but  that  irritating  sound  in  the  deserted  church,  which 
had  not  even  then  been  swept,  nor  had  the  early  mass  been  per- 
formed. Then,  holding  on  to  a  chair,  he  raised  himself,  with  a 
cracking  of  his  knees.  God  had  not  yet  arrived.  Why  should  he 
go  and  weep  on  M.  Venot's  breast?  That  man  could  do  nothing. 

And  he  mechanically  returned  to  Nana's.  Outside,  having 
slipped,  he  felt  tears  come  to  his  eyes,  not  with  anger  against 
fate,  but  simply  because  he  felt  weak  and  ill.  He  was  really 
too  tired;  he  had  been  out  too  long  in  the  rain,  he  felt  the  cold 
too  much.  It  froze  him  to  think  of  going  back  to  his  dismal 
home  in  the  Rue  Miromesnil.  At  Nana's  the  street-door  was 
not  open,  he  had  to  wait  till  the  concierge  appeared.  As  he  went 
up-stairs  he  smiled,  already  feeling  the  pleasant  warmth  of  that 
nest,  where  he  would  at  length  be  able  to  stretch  himself  and 
sleep. 

When  Zoe  let  him  in,  she  made  a  gesture  of  amazement  and 
uneasiness.  Madame,  having  been  seized  by  a  violent  headache, 
hadn't  closed  her  eyes  all  night.  However,  she  would  go  and  see 
whether  she  had  fallen  asleep  or  not;  and  she  glided  into  the  bed- 
room, whilst  he  sank  down  on  a  chair  in  the  drawing-room.  But 
Nana  appeared  almost  instantly.  She  had  jumped  out  of  bed, 
scarcely  taking  time  to  put  on  a  petticoat,  and  entered  with  bare 
feet,  her  hair  hanging  about  her  shoulders,  her  night  dress  rumpled 
and  torn,  in  the  disorder  of  a  night  of  love. 

"What!  you  here  again!"  cried  she,  red  with  passion.  Under 
the  influence  of  her  rage,  she  was  hastening  to  put  him  out  her- 
self; but  seeing  him  in  such  a  state,  so  utterly  helpless,  she  was 
once  more  moved  to  pity.  "Well!  you're  in  a  nice  mess,  my  poor 
fellow!"  she  resumed  in  a  more  pleasant  tone  of  voice.  "What 
is  the  matter  with  you?  Ah !  you've  been  watching  them,  you ' ve 
been  having  a  fine  time  of  it!" 

He  said  nothing;  he  looked  like  a  stunned  ox.  Yet  she  under- 

CI983 


NANA 

stood  that  he  had  not  been  able  to  obtain  any  proof,  as  she  added, 
just  to  bring  him  to  himself  again: 

"You  see,  I  was  mistaken.  Your  wife  is  all  right,  on  my  word 
she  is!  Now,  my  boy,  you  must  go  home  and  get  to  bed.  You 
are  in  want  of  sleep." 

He  did  not  stir. 

"Come,  be  off;  I  can't  keep  you  here.  You  don't,  I  suppose, 
want  to  stop  at  this  time  of  day?" 

"Yes,  let  us  go  to  sleep,"  he  muttered. 

She  repressed  a  violent  gesture.  She  was  fast  losing  patience. 
Was  he  going  crazy? 

"Come,  be  off,"  said  she  a  second  time. 

"No." 

Then,  thoroughly  exasperated,  she  broke  out  in  revolt. 

"But  it's  disgusting!  Understand  me,  I've  had  a  great  deal 
too  much  of  you.  Go  and  find  your  wife,  who's  making  a  cuckold 
of  you.  Yes,  she's  making  a  cuckold  of  you  —  it's  I  who  tell 
you  so,  now.  There!  have  you  got  what  you  wanted?  Will  you 
leave  me  or  not?" 

Muffat's  eyes  filled  with  tears.    He  clasped  his  hands. 

"  Let  us  go  to  sleep." 

Nana  scarcely  knew  what  she  did,  choking  as  she  was  with 
nervous  sobs.  It  was  too  much!  Did  all  these  matters  concern 
her?  She  had  certainly  taken  all  possible  precaution  in  telling 
him,  so  as  not  to  hurt  his  feelings,  and  now  she  was  to  pay  for 
the  broken  glass!  Oh,  no!  if  you  please!  She  was  good-natured, 
but  not  to  that  extent. 

"Damnation!  I've  had  enough  of  it  all!"  swore  she,  striking 
the  furniture  with  her  clenched  fists.  "Ah,  well!  I  who  took  so 
much  care  to  keep  faithful.  Why,  my  fine  fellow!  I  could  be 
as  rich  as  ever  to-morrow,  if  I  only  said  a  word." 

He  raised  his  head  in  surprise.  He  had  never  given  the  money 
question  a  thought.  If  she  would  express  a  desire,  he  would 
gratify  it  at  once.  His  whole  fortune  was  hers. 

"No,  it's  too  late,"  replied  she,  furiously.  " I  like  the  men  who 
give  without  being  asked.  No,  were  you  to  offer  me  a  million 
for  one  embrace,  I  would  refuse  you.  It's  all  over,  I  have  some- 
thing better  there.  Be  off,  or  I  will  no  longer  answer  for  myself. 
I  shall  do  something  dreadful." 

And  she  advanced  towards  him,  menacingly;  but  in  the  midst 

C  1993 


NANA 

of  this  exasperation  of  a  kind-hearted  girl  pushed  to  extremes, 
and  convinced  of  her  right  and  of  her  superiority  over  the  worthy 
people  who  pestered  her,  the  door  suddenly  opened  and  Steiner 
appeared.  This  was  the  last  straw.  She  uttered  a  terrible  cry. 

"Hallo!  here's  the  other  one  now!" 

Steiner,  bewildered  by  the  noise  of  her  voice,  stood  still.  Muf- 
fat's  unexpected  presence  annoyed  him,  for  he  was  afraid  of  an 
explanation,  from  which  he  had  kept  aloof  for  three  months  past. 
Blinking  his  eyes,  he  twisted  himself  about  in  an  uneasy  sort  of 
way,  and  avoided  looking  at  the  count;  and  he  breathed  hard, 
with  the  red  and  distorted  features  of  a  man  who  has  rushed  about 
Paris  to  bring  some  good  news,  and  who  finds  he  has  fallen  into 
a  catastrophe. 

"What  do  you  want  —  you,  eh?"  asked  Nana,  roughly,  speak- 
ing familiarly  to  him,  in  spite  of  the  count's  presence. 

"I  —  I  — ,"  he  stammered,  " I  have  brought  you  —  you  know 
what." 

"What's  that?" 

He  hesitated.  Two  days  before  she  had  told  him  not  to  show 
himself  there  again  without  bringing  a  thousand  francs,  which 
she  required  to  pay  a  bill.  For  two  days  he  had  been  seeking  the 
money,  and  he  had  just  succeeded  in  completing  the  sum  that 
very  morning. 

"The  thousand  francs,"  he  ended  by  saying,  as  he  withdrew 
an  envelope  from  his  pocket. 

Nana  had  forgotten  all  about  them. 

"The  thousand  francs!"  cried  she.  "Do  I  ask  for  charity? 
Look!  see  what  I  do  with  your  thousand  francs!" 

And  seizing  the  envelope,  she  threw  it  in  his  face.  Like  a 
prudent  Jew  he  picked  it  up,  though  painfully.  He  glanced  at 
the  young  woman  in  a  stupefied  fashion.  Muffat  exchanged  a 
look  of  despair  with  him,  whilst  Nana  placed  her  hands  on  her 
hips  in  order  to  shout  the  louder. 

"  I  say  now,  have  you  nearly  finished  insulting  me?  As  for  you, 
my  boy,  I'm  glad  you've  also  come;  for  now,  look  here,  I  can  have 
a  clean  sweep.  Now  then!  out  you  go!"  Then,  as  they  did  not 
seem  to  hurry  themselves,  but  stood  as  though  paralysed,  she  went 
on:  "What!  you  say  I'm  foolish?  That's  possible!  but  you've 
plagued  me  too  much;  and,  drat  it  all!  I've  had  enough  of  a 
fashionable  existence!  If  I  bust  up,  it's  my  lookout. 


NANA 

"One — two  —  you  refuse  to  go?  Well!  look  here  then,  I've 
got  a  friend." 

With  a  sudden  movement  she  threw  the  bedroom  door  wide 
open.  Then  the  two  men  beheld  Fontan  in  the  middle  of  the 
tumbled  bed.  He  had  not  expected  to  be  exhibited  thus,  with 
his  dusky  person  spread  out  like  a  goat  in  the  midst  of  the  crumpled 
lace,  his  legs  showing  under  the  flying  tail  of  his  night  shirt.  He 
was  not,  however,  by  any  means  embarrassed,  used  as  he  was 
to  the  surprises  of  the  stage.  After  the  first  shock  was  over,  he 
was  able  to  make  a  face  which  insured  him  the  honours  of  war. 
He  did  the  rabbit,  as  he  called  it,  thrusting  out  his  mouth,  curling 
his  nose,  and  moving  all  the  muscles  of  his  face  at  the  same  time. 
His  head,  resembling  that  of  a  libidinous  faun,  exuded  vice  through 
every  pore.  It  was  Fontan  whom  Nana,  seized  by  that  mad  in- 
fatuation of  women  for  the  hideous  grimaces  of  ugly  comic  actors, 
had  been  fetching  nightly,  for  a  week  past,  from  the  Variety 
Theatre. 

"There!"  said  she,  pointing  to  him  with  a  tragic  gesture. 

Muffat,  who  was  prepared  for  almost  anything,  indignantly 
resented  the  affront. 

"Strumpet!"  he  stammered. 

But  Nana,  already  in  the  bedroom,  returned  to  have  the  last 
word. 

"Strumpet,  indeed!    Then  what  about  your  wife?" 

And,  turning  on  her  heel,  she  loudly  banged  the  door  after  her 
and  bolted  it.  The  two  men,  left  alone,  looked  at  each  other  in 
silence.  Zoe  then  entered  the  room.  She  did  not  hurry  them  off, 
but  talked  very  sensibly  to  them.  Like  a  reasonable  being,  she 
thought  madame  had  behaved  very  foolishly.  However,  she  took 
her  part.  Her  mania  for  that  wretched  stroller  wouldn't  last 
long.  All  they  had  to  do  was  to  wait  till  she  had  got  over  it. 
They  then  withdrew.  They  had  not  uttered  a  word.  Outside 
on  the  pavement,  moved  by  a  sort  of  fraternal  feeling,  they 
silently  shook  hands;  and,  turning  their  backs  on  each  other, 
and  dragging  their  legs  along,  they  went  off  in  opposite  direc- 
tions. 

When  MufFat  at  length  returned  to  his  house  in  the  Rue  Miro- 
mesnil,  his  wife  had  just  arrived  there.  They  both  met  on  the 
broad  staircase,  the  sombre  walls  of  which  diffused  an  icy  chill 
around.  Raising  their  eyes,  they  beheld  each  other.  The  count 

C20I] 


NANA 

was  still  in  his  muddy  clothes,  and  his  face  had  the  frightful 
pallor  of  a  man  returning  from  a  surfeit  of  vice.  The  countess, 
blear-eyed,  with  her  hair  all  dishevelled,  and  looking  thoroughly 
exhausted  by  a  night  passed  in  the  train,  seemed  scarcely  able  to 
keep  awake. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

IT  was  in  the  Rue  Veron,  at  Montmartre,  in  a  little  apartment 
on  the  fourth  floor.     Nana  and  Fontan  had  invited  a  few 
friends  to  partake  of  their  Twelfth  Night  cake.     They  had 
only  got  settled  three  days  before,  and  intended  having  a  house- 
warming. 

Everything  had  been  done  hastily,  in  the  first  ardour  of  their 
honeymoon,  without  any  fixed  intention  of  their  living  together. 
On  the  morrow  of  her  grand  brawl,  when  she  had  so  energetically 
sent  the  count  and  the  banker  about  their  business,  Nana  felt 
that  she  had  got  herself  into  a  fine  mess.  She  saw  her  position  at 
a  glance.  The  creditors  would  invade  her  anteroom,  interfere  in 
her  love  affairs,  and  talk  of  selling  her  up  if  she  was  not  reason- 
able. There  would  be  endless  quarrels  and  constant  worries, 
just  to  keep  a  few  sticks  of  furniture  from  their  grasp.  She  pre- 
ferred to  let  all  go.  Besides,  she  was  sick  of  her  apartment  in  the 
Boulevard  Haussmann.  It  was  unbearable  with  its  great  gilded 
rooms.  In  her  infatuation  for  Fontan,  her  dream  of  her  girlhood 
returned  to  her  —  of  the  days  when  she  was  apprenticed  to  the 
artificial  flower-maker,  and  longed  for  nothing  more  than  a  pretty 
bright  little  room,  with  a  wardrobe  of  violet  ebony  with  a  glass 
door,  and  a  bed  hung  with  blue  rep.  In  two  days  she  sold  every- 
thing that  she  could  safely  remove  —  nick-nacks,  jewels,  and  the 
like  —  and  disappeared  with  about  ten  thousand  francs,  without 
saying  a  word  to  the  landlord  —  a  perfect  header,  and  not  a  trace 
remaining  behind.  That  accomplished,  there  was  no  fear  of  having 
any  men  dangling  about  her  petticoats.  Fontan  was  very  nice. 
He  didn't  say  "no,"  he  let  her  do  as  she  liked  —  in  fact,  he  behaved 
altogether  like  a  regular  chum.  He  possessed  about  seven  thou- 
sand francs,  and  agreed  to  put  them  with  Nana's  ten  thousand, 
although  he  had  the  reputation  of  being  miserly.  That  seemed  to 
them  something  solid  to  start  housekeeping  on.  And  they  com- 
menced thus,  each  taking  what  he  or  she  required  out  of  the  com- 
mon fund,  furnishing  the  two  rooms  in  the  Rue  Veron,  and  sharing 


NANA 

everything  alike.    At  the  beginning  this  kind  of  life  was  simply 
delicious. 

On  Twelfth  Night,  Madame  Lerat  was  the  first  to  arrive,  with 
little  Louis.  As  Fontan  had  not  returned,  she  ventured  to  ex- 
press her  fears,  for  she  trembled  to  see  her  niece  renouncing  fortune. 

"Oh!  aunt,  I  love  him  so  much!"  cried  Nana,  pressing  her 
hands  prettily  across  her  breast. 

These  words  produced  an  extraordinary  effect  on  Madame  Lerat. 
Her  eyes  moistened. 

"That's  right,"  said  she  in  a  convincing  manner;  "love  before 
everything." 

And  she  praised  the  prettiness  of  the  rooms.  Nana  showed 
her  everything  in  the  bedroom  and  the  dining-room,  and  even  in 
the  kitchen.  Well!  they  were  not  large,  but  they  had  been  newly 
painted  and  papered;  and  the  sun  shone  there  so  brilliantly. 
Then  Madame  Lerat  kept  the  young  woman  in  the  bedroom, 
whilst  Little  Louis  went  and  installed  himself  in  the  kitchen, 
behind  the  charwoman,  in  order  to  see  her  put  a  chicken  down  to 
roast.  If  she  ventured  to  make  any  remarks,  it  was  because 
Zoe  had  been  to  see  her  only  a  short  time  before.  Zoe  was  so 
devoted  to  madame  that  she  bravely  remained  at  the  breach. 
Madame  would  pay  her  some  time  or  other  —  she  had  no  anxiety 
on  that  score.  And  in  the  downfall  of  the  establishment  of  the 
Boulevard  Haussmann,  she  coped  with  the  creditors,  operating  a 
masterly  retreat,  saving  waifs  from  the  wreck,  and  telling  every 
one  that  madame  was  travelling,  but  without  ever  giving  an  address ; 
and  for  fear,  too,  of  being  followed,  she  denied  herself  the  pleasure 
of  calling  on  madame.  However,  that  very  morning  she  had 
hastened  to  Madame  Lerat,  because  there  was  something  new  in 
the  wind.  The  day  before  several  creditors  had  called  —  the  up- 
holsterer, the  coal  merchant,  the  milliner  —  and  they  had  offered 
to  give  time,  proposing  even  to  advance  a  considerable  sum  of 
money  to  madame,  if  madame  would  return  to  her  apartment, 
and  consent  to  act  like  a  sensible  being.  The  aunt  repeated  Zoe's 
very  words.  There  was  no  doubt  some  gentleman  at  the  bottom 
of  all  that. 

"Never!"  declared  Nana  indignantly.  "Well!  they're  a  dirty 
lot  —  those  tradespeople!  Do  they  think  that  I'm  going  to  sell 
myself,  just  for  the  sake  of  seeing  their  bills  paid?  Listen  to  me 
now,  I'd  sooner  die  of  hunger  than  deceive  Fontan." 

£204] 


NANA 

"That's  just  what  I  answered,"  said  Madame  Lerat.  "I  told 
her  that  you  would  only  obey  the  dictates  of  your  heart." 

Nana,  however,  was  very  annoyed  to  hear  that  La  Mignotte 
had  been  sold,  and  that  Labordette  had  purchased  it  for  a  most 
ridiculous  sum  for  Caroline  Hequet.  That  put  her  in  a  rage 
against  the  clique.  They  were  nothing  better  than  street-walkers, 
in  spite  of  their  grand  airs.  Ah,  yes!  by  Jove!  she  was  worth 
more  than  the  whole  lot  of  them! 

"They  may  laugh,"  she  wound  up  by  saying.  "Money  will 
never  give  them  real  happiness.  And  then,  look  you,  aunt,  I 
no  longer  know  even  whether  these  people  are  in  existence.  I 
am  too  happy  to  give  them  a  thought." 

Just  then  Madame  Maloir  entered,  with  one  of  those  extra- 
ordinary bonnets  which  she  alone  had  the  science  of  making. 
It  was  quite  a  happy  meeting.  Madame  Maloir  explained  that 
greatness  intimidated  her,  but  that  now  she  would  call  occasion- 
ally to  have  a  game  at  bezique.  For  the  second  time  they  went 
over  the  apartments;  and  in  the  kitchen,  in  the  presence  of  the 
charwoman  who  was  basting  the  chicken,  Nana  talked  of  how 
economical  she  was  going  to  be,  saying  that  a  servant  would  cost 
too  much  and  that  she  intended  to  do  the  housework  herself, 
whilst  little  Louis  greedily  watched  the  chicken  roasting.  But 
there  was  a  sound  of  voices.  It  was  Fontan,  with  Bosc  and 
PruIIiere.  The  dinner  could  be  served  at  once,  and  the  soup  was 
already  on  the  table,  when  Nana,  for  the  third  time,  showed  her 
guests  over  the  rooms. 

"Ah,  children!  how  comfortable  you  must  be  here!"  Bosc 
kept  saying,  simply  to  please  the  friends  who  stood  him  a  dinner, 
for  in  reality  the  question  of  the  nest,  as  he  called  it,  did  not 
affect  him  in  the  least.  In  the  bedroom  he  seemed  scarcely  able 
to  find  sufficient  words  to  express  his  admiration.  Usually  he 
alluded  to  women  as  being  no  better  than  animals,  and  the  idea 
that  a  man  could  embarrass  himself  with  one  of  the  dirty  hussies 
raised  in  him  the  only  indignation  of  which  he  was  capable,  in 
the  drunken  disdain  with  which  he  enveloped  the  world. 

"Ah!  the  lucky  ones!"  he  continued,  blinking  his  eyes,  "they've 
done  it  all  on  the  sly.  Well!  really,  you're  right.  It'll  be  charm- 
ing, and  we'll  come  and  see  you  —  I'm  blowed  if  we  won't!" 

But  as  little  Louis  just  then  galloped  in,  riding  on  a  broom- 
handle,  PruIIiere  said,  with  a  malicious  giggle: 


NANA 

"What!  you've  already  got  that  big  baby?" 

They  all  thought  it  very  funny.  Madame  Lerat  and  Madame 
Maloir  nearly  split  their  sides  with  laughing.  Nana,  far  from 
feeling  offended,  smiled  in  a  loving  sort  of  way,  saying  that  un- 
fortunately it  was  not  the  case;  she  would  have  liked  it  to  have 
been  so  for  the  little  one's  sake  and  her  own,  but  perhaps  they 
would  have  one  all  the  same.  Fontan,  acting  the  kind-hearted 
man,  took  little  Louis  in  his  arms,  playing  with  him,  and  stuttering: 

"All  the  same,  you  love  your  papa;  don't  you?  Call  me  papa, 
you  little  monkey!" 

"Papa  —  papa!"  lisped  the  child. 

Everyone  caressed  and  fondled  him.  Rose,  taking  no  real 
interest  in  the  matter,  moved  that  they  should  go  to 'dinner  - 
that  was  the  only  thing  worth  living  for.  Nana  asked  to  be 
allowed  to  have  little  Louis  beside  her.  The  meal  was  a  very 
merry  one.  Bosc,  however,  did  not  get  on  very  well  on  account 
of  the  child's  proximity  to  him,  and  his  time  was  taken  up  in 
defending  his  plate  from  the  youngster's  attacks.  Madame 
Lerat  disturbed  him  also.  She  became  very  tender,  and  whis- 
pered in  his  ear  most  mysterious  things  —  stories  of  gentlemen 
very  well  off  who  still  followed  her  about,  and  on  two  separate 
occasions  he  was  obliged  to  move  his  knee,  for  she  kept  pushing 
hers  against  it,  looking  at  him  most  lovingly  the  while.  PruIIiere 
behaved  most  shamefully  to  Madame  Maloir,  not  helping  her 
to  a  single  thing.  He  was  occupied  solely  with  Nana,  greatly 
annoyed  at  seeing  her  with  Fontan.  The  turtle  doves,  too,  were 
becoming  a  nuisance,  kissing  each  other  at  every  moment.  In 
spite  of  all  the  usages,  they  had  persisted  in  sitting  side  by  side. 

"Do  leave  off  and  eat  your  dinners!"  Bosc  kept  on  saying, 
with  his  mouth  full.  "You  will  have  plenty  of  time  to  cuddle 
each  other  afterwards.  Wait  till  we  have  gone.  " 

But  Nana  could  not  restrain  herself.  She  was  all  wrapped 
up  in  her  love,  as  rosy  as  a  virgin,  and  full  of  endearing  smiles 
and  glances.  With  her  eyes  fixed  on  Fontan,  she  called  him  all 
the  pretty  names  she  could  think  of  —  ducky,  darling,  cherub, 
and  whenever  he  handed  her  anything,  the  water  or  the  salt, 
she  leant  forward  and  kissed  him  on  whatever  part  of  his  head 
her  lips  encountered  —  on  his  eyes,  his  nose,  or  his  ears;  then,  if 
the  others  scolded  her,  she  retired  again  to  her  seat  with  most 
wary  tactics,  and  the  humility  and  suppleness  of  a  cat  that  had 

I  206! 


NANA 

just  been  whipped,  though  at  the  same  time  slyly  taking  hold 
of  his  hand  beneath  the  table,  to  kiss  it  again  at  the  first  opportu- 
nity. She  must  touch  some  part  of  him.  Fontan  assumed  an 
important  air,  and  condescendingly  allowed  himself  to  be  adored. 
His  big  nose  quivered  with  a  sensual  joy;  his  goatish  physiog- 
nomy, his  ugliness  suggestive  of  some  ridiculous  monster,  seemed 
to  expand  beneath  the  devout  adoration  of  that  superb  girl,  so 
plump  and  white.  Occasionally  he  would  return  her  kiss,  like 
a  man  who,  though  having  the  best  of  it,  still  wishes  to  act 
nicely. 

"Look  here,  you  two,  you  are  really  unbearable!"  exclaimed 
PruIIiere  at  length.  "  Get  out  of  there,  you !" 

And  he  turned  Fontan  out  of  his  seat,  changing  the  plates  and 
glasses,  and  took  the  place  beside  Nana.  This  called  forth  no 
end  of  exclamations,  outbursts  of  applause,  and  some  rather  in- 
decent remarks.  Fontan  pretended  to  be  in  despair,  and  assumed 
his  comical  look  of  Vulcan  crying  for  Venus.  PruIIiere  at  once 
made  himself  very  attentive;  but  Nana,  whose  foot  he  tried  to 
touch  under  the  table,  gave  him  a  kick  to  force  him  to  leave  off. 
No,  she  would  certainly  not  have  anything  to  do  with  him.  The 
month  before  she  had  been  slightly  smitten  with  his  handsome 
head,  but  now  she  detested  him.  If  he  pinched  her  again  when 
pretending  to  pick  up  his  napkin,  she  would  throw  her  glass  in 
his  face. 

But  everything  went  off  well.  They  naturally  talked  of  the 
Variety  Theatre.  That  rogue,  Bordenave,  would  never  die,  it 
seemed.  His  foul  diseases  had  broken  out  again,  and  he  was  in 
such  a  state  that  one  could  scarcely  touch  him  with  a  pair  of 
tongs.  The  day-  before  he  had  done  nothing  but  blackguard 
Simone  all  through  the  rehearsal.  Nobody  would  weep  for  him 
over-much!  Nana  said  that  if  he  dared  to  offer  her  another  part 
she  would  send  him  to  the  .devil.  Besides,  she  didn't  think 
she  would  go  upon  the  stage  again;  she  preferred  being  at  home 
to  being  at  the  theatre.  Fontan,  who  was  not  in  the  new  piece, 
nor  yet  in  the  one  they  were  rehearsing,  also  exaggerated  the 
sweets  of  liberty,  and  the  felicity  of  spending  his  evenings  with 
his  little  darling,  his  legs  stretched  out  before  the  fire.  And  the 
the  others  called  them  lucky  creatures,  pretending  to  envy  their 
happiness. 

They  had  cut  the  Twelfth  Night  cake.   The  bean  had  fallen  to 


NANA 

Madame  Lerat,  who  at  once  put  it  in  Bosc's  glass.  Then  they  all 
shouted:  "The  king  drinks!  the  king  drinks!"  Nana  took  ad- 
vantage of  this  outburst  of  gaiety  to  put  her  arms  round  Fontan's 
neck  and  kiss  him,  and  whisper  in  his  ear.  But  Prulliere,  with  the 
vexed  laugh  of  a  handsome  fellow  who  finds  his  good  looks  are 
not  appreciated,  cried  out  that  it  was  not  fair.  Little  Louis  had 
been  put  to  sleep  on  two  chairs;  and  the  party  did  not  break 
up  till  one  in  the  morning,  the  guests  calling  out  " good-night" 
as  they  descended  the  stairs. 

And  for  three  weeks  the  life  of  the  two  lovers  was  sweet  indeed. 
Nana  thought  herself  back  again  at  the  commencement  of  her 
career,  when  her  first  silk  dress  had  caused  her  so  much  pleasure. 
She  went  out  but  little,  affecting  solitude  and  simplicity.  One 
morning  early,  when  going  to  buy  some  fish  at  the  Rochefoucauld 
market,  she  was  astonished  to  find  herself  face  to  face  with  Francis, 
the  hairdresser.  He  was  dressed  with  his  habitual  correctness, 
fine  clean  linen,  and  an  irreproachable  overcoat;  and  she  was 
ashamed  at  being  seen  by  him  in  the  street  in  a  dirty  morning 
gown,  her  hair  all  in  disorder,  and  with  a  pair  of  old  shoes  upon 
her  feet.  But  he  had  the  tact  to  be  even  more  exaggerated 
in  his  politeness.  He  did  not  ask  a  question,  but  pretended  to 
think  that  madame  had  been  abroad.  Ah!  madame  had  broken 
a  great  many  hearts  by  going  away!  It  was  a  loss  for  all  the 
world.  The  young  woman,  however,  seized  with  a  curiosity  which 
ended  by  dispelling  her  first  embarrassment,  could  not  refrain 
from  questioning  him.  As  the  crowd  kept  jostling  against  them, 
she  drew  him  into  a  doorway,  and  stood  in  front  of  him,  with  her 
little  basket  in  her  hand.  What  was  being  said  about  her  little 
escapade?  Well!  really,  the  ladies  at  whose  houses  he  called 
said  this  and  that;  in  short,  it  had  caused  quite  a  commotion  and 
was  undoubtedly  a  tremendous  success.  And  Steiner?  M.  Steiner 
had  fallen  very  low;  he  would  end  badly,  unless  he  succeeded 
in  some  fresh  speculation.  And  Daguenet?  Oh!  he  was  doing 
very  well;  M.  Daguenet  was  settling  down.  Nana,  excited  by  her 
reminiscences,  was  on  the  point  of  asking  some  fresh  question, 
but  she  felt  a  restraint  in  uttering  Muffat's  name.  Then  Francis 
smilingly  alluded  to  him.  As  for  the  count,  it  was  shocking  to 
see  him,  he  had  suffered  so  much  after  madame's  departure;  he 
looked  like  the  ghost  of  some  unburied  corpse,  as  he  wandered 
about  the  various  places  that  madame  used  to  frequent.  However 

£208  3 


NANA 

M.  Mignon,  having  come  across  him,  had  taken  him  home.  This 
news  made  Nana  laugh,  but  in  a  constrained  manner. 

"Ah!  so  he's  with  Rose  now,"  said  she.  "Well,  you  know, 
Francis,  I  don't  care  a  hang!  The  old  hypocrite!  He's  got  into 
such  habits,  he  can't  even  abstain  from  them  for  a  few  days! 
And  he  swore  that  he  would  never  have  anything  to  do  with  any 
woman  after  me!"  Though  outwardly  calm,  she  was  in  reality 
greatly  enraged.  "It's  my  leavings,"  she  resumed.  "Rose  has 
treated  herself  to  a  queer  fish!  Oh!  I  see  it  all;  she  wanted  to 
have  her  revenge  for  my  carrying  off  that  old  beast  Steiner  from 
her.  She's  done  a  smart  thing  in  taking  a  man  into  her  house 
that  I  turned  out  of  mine!" 

"M.  Mignon  tells  a  different  story,"  said  the  hairdresser. 
"According  to  him,  it  was  the  count  who  turned  you  out  —  yes, 
and  in  a  rather  unpleasant  way,  too,  with  a  kick  behind." 

On  hearing  this,  Nana  became  deadly  pale. 

"Eh?  what?"  exclaimed  she.  "A  kick  behind?  Well,  that's 
too  much,  that  is!  Why,  my  boy,  it  was  I  who  chucked  him 
downstairs,  the  cuckold!  for  he  is  a  cuckold,  as  I  daresay  you 
know  —  his  countess  has  no  end  of  lovers,  even  that  filthy  Fau- 
chery.  And  that  Mignon,  who  walks  the  streets  for  his  monkey- 
faced  wife,  whom  no  one  will  touch,  because  she's  so  skinny! 
What  a  beastly  world!  what  a  beastly  world!"  She  was  choking. 
She  stopped  to  take  breath.  "Ah!  so  they  say  that?  Well,  my 
little  Francis,  I'll  just  go  and  seek  them  out.  Shall  we  go  together, 
at  once?  Yes,  I'll  go,  and  we'll  see  if  they'll  have  the  cheek  to 
talk  then  about  kicks  behind.  Kicks!  why  I  have  never  submitted 
to  be  kicked  by  any  one.  And  I'll  never  be  beaten,  either;  be- 
cause, look  you,  I'd  kill  the  man  who  laid  a  finger  on  me." 

But  she  gradually  quieted  down.  After  all,  they  could  say  what 
they  liked.  She  thought  no  more  of  them  than  of  the  mud  on 
her  shoes.  It  would  defile  her  to  pay  the  least  attention  to  such 
people.  She  had  her  conscience,  and  that  was  enough  for  her. 
And  Francis  became  more  familiar,  seeing  her  expose  her  inmost 
feelings  as  she  stood  there  in  her  dirty  old  gown,  and  he  ventured 
to  give  her  some  advice.  She  was  foolish  to  sacrifice  everything 
simply  for  an  infatuation;  infatuations  spoilt  life.  She  listened 
to  him,  holding  down  her  head,  whilst  he  spoke  in  a  sad  tone  of 
voice,  like  a  connoisseur  who  grieved  to  see  so  lovely  a  girl  throw 
herself  away  in  such  a  manner. 

1:2093 


NANA 

"That's  my  business,"  she  ended  by  saying.  "But  thanks  all 
the  same,  old  fellow." 

She  squeezed  his  hand,  which  was  always  a  trifle  greasy,  in 
spite  of  his  perfect  get-up;  then  she  left  him  and  went  to  buy  her 
fish.  During  the  day  the  story  of  the  kick  behind  occupied  her  a 
great  deal.  She  even  spoke  of  it  to  Fontan,  again  affecting  the 
style  of  a  strong-minded  woman  who  would  not  submit  to  an 
insult  from  any  one.  Fontan,  like  the  superior  being  he  was, 
declared  that  all  those  grand  gentlemen  were  muffs,  and  that 
they  should  despise  them.  And  from  that  moment  Nana  was 
filled  with  a  real  disdain. 

It  happened  that  evening  that  they  went  to  the  Bouffes  Theatre 
to  see  a  little  woman,  whom  Fontan  knew,  make  her  first  appear- 
ance in  a  part  of  ten  lines.  It  was  nearly  one  o'clock  in  the  morn- 
ing when  they  at  last  got  back  to  Montmartre  on  foot.  In  the 
Rue  de  la  Chaussee  d'Antin  they  had  stopped  to  buy  a  cake,  a 
moka;  and  they  ate  it  in  bed,  because  the  night  was  cold,  and  it 
was  not  worth  while  lighting  a  fire.  Sitting  up  in  bed,  side  by 
side,  with  the  clothes  well  over  them,  and  the  pillows  piled  up 
behind,  they  talked  of  the  little  woman  as  they  supped.  Nana 
thought  her  ugly  and  quite  without  go.  Fontan,  who  slept  on 
the  outside  of  the  bed,  passed  the  slices  of  cake,  which  stood  on 
the  night-table  between  a  box  of  matches  and  the  candle.  But 
they  ended  by  quarrelling. 

"Oh!  is  it  possible  to  talk  so?"  cried  Nana.  "Her  eyes  are 
like  gimlet  holes,  and  her  hair  is  the  colour  of  tow." 

"Shut  up!"  replied  Fontan.  "She  has  beautiful  hair,  and  her 
eyes  are  full  of  fire.  It's  funny  that  you  women  always  pull  each 
other  to  pieces!"  He  seemed  greatly  annoyed.  "There,  that's 
enough!"  he  said  at  length,  in  a  rough  tone  of  voice.  "You  know 
I  don't  like  wrangling.  We'll  go  to  sleep,  or  there'll  be  a  row." 

And  he  blew  out  the  candle.  Nana  was  furious,  and  continued 
talking.  She  was  not  going  to  be  spoken  to  like  that;  she  was 
in  the  habit  of  being  respected.  As  he  no  longer  answered,  she 
was  obliged  to  leave  off;  but  she  could  not  go  to  sleep  —  she 
kept  turning  over  and  turning  over. 

"Damn  it  all!  have  you  finished  moving  about?"  he  asked  sud- 
denly, jumping  up  in  a  sitting  posture. 

"It's  not  my  fault  if  there  are  crumbs  in  the  bed,"  said  she 
sharply. 


NANA 

And  there  were  indeed  crumbs  in  the  bed.  She  even  felt  them 
under  her  legs,  they  were  all  about  her.  The  smallest  crumb 
irritated  her,  and  made  her  scratch  herself  till  her  flesh  bled. 
Besides,  when  one  eats  anything  in  bed,  one  should  always  shake 
the  clothes  afterwards.  Fontan,  in  a  towering  rage,  lit  the  candle. 
They  both  got  out;  and  in  their  night-dresses,  and  with  their 
feet  bare,  they  uncovered  the  bed  and  swept  the  crumbs  away 
with  their  hands.  He,  who  was  shivering  all  the  time,  hastily 
got  back  into  bed,  and  told  her  to  go  to  the  devil,  because  she 
asked  him  to  wipe  his  feet.  Then  she  returned  to  her  place; 
but  she  had  scarcely  Iain  down  again  before  she  recommenced 
her  dance.  There  were  still  some  crumbs  left. 

"Of  course!  I  knew  it,"  said  she.  "You  brought  them  back 
again  on  your  feet.  I  can't  go  to  sleep  like  this!  I  tell  you  I 
can't!" 

And  she  rose  in  bed,  as  though  about  to  step  over  him.  Then, 
unable  to  stand  it  any  longer,  and  wishing  to  go  to  sleep,  Fontan 
thrust  out  his  arm  and  slapped  her.  The  blow  was  given  with 
such  force  that  Nana  at  once  found  herself  lying  down  in  bed 
again,  with  her  head  on  the  pillow.  She  lay  still  as  though  stunned. 

"Oh!"  said  she  simply,  sighing  like  a  child. 

He  threatened  her  with  another  smack  if  she  moved  again. 
Then,  blowing  out  the  candle,  he  turned  on  his  back,  and  soon 
began  to  snore.  She  buried  her  face  in  her  pillow  to  smother  her 
sobs.  It  was  cowardly  to  take  advantage  of  her  inferior  strength. 
But  she  was  dreadfully  frightened,  Fontan's  usually  funny  face 
had  looked  so  terrible.  And  her  anger  disappeared,  as  though 
the  smack  had  appeased  it.  She  respected  him;  she  squeezed 
up  against  the  wall  to  leave  him  all  the  room.  With  her  cheek 
tingling,  her  eyes  full  of  tears,  she  even  ended  by  falling  asleep 
in  such  a  delicious  dejection  of  spirits,  in  such  a  wearied  state  of 
submission,  that  she  no  longer  felt  the  crumbs.  In  the  morning, 
when  she  awoke,  she  had  her  arms  round  Fontan,  holding  him 
very  tightly.  He  would  never  do  it  again,  would  he  now?  She 
loved  him  too  much.  Still  it  was  even  nice  to  be  beaten  by  him. 

From  that  night  their  life  entirely  changed.  For  a  "yes"  or  a 
"no"  Fontan  struck  her.  She,  getting  used  to  it,  submitted. 
Occasionally  she  cried  out  or  menaced  him;  but  he  forced  her 
against  the  wall,  and  talked  of  strangling  her,  and  that  made 
her  yield.  More  frequently  she  fell  on  to  a  chair  and  sobbed  for 


NANA 

five  minutes.  Then  she  forgot  all  about  it,  becoming  very  gay, 
and  singing  and  laughing  and  skipping  about  the  room.  The 
worst  was  that  Fontan  now  disappeared  all  day  and  never  came 
home  before  midnight;  he  frequented  the  cafes  where  he  was 
likely  to  meet  his  friends.  Nana  tremblingly  and  caressingly  sub- 
mitted to  everything,  not  daring  to  utter  a  reproach  for  fear  of 
never  seeing  him  again.  But  some  days,  when  she  had  neither 
Madame  Maloir  nor  her  aunt  with  little  Louis  to  help  her  pass 
away  the  time,  she  felt  very  wretched  indeed.  Therefore,  one 
Sunday,  when  she  had  gone  to  the  Rochefoucauld  market  to  pur- 
chase some  pigeons,  she  was  delighted  to  come  across  Satin,  who 
was  buying  a  bunch  of  radishes.  Ever  since  the  evening  when 
the  prince  had  partaken  of  Fontan's  champagne,  they  had  lost 
sight  of  each  other. 

"  What!  it's  you!  you  live  in  this  neighbourhood?"  asked  Satin, 
amazed  at  seeing  her  out  of  doors  in  her  slippers  at  that  time 
day.    "Ah!  my  poor  girl,  you  must  be  down  in  your  luck!" 

Nana  frowned  at  her  to  make  her  leave  off,  because  there  were 
some  other  women  there,  women  in  dressing-gowns,  and  who  did 
not  appear  to  have  any  underclothes  on,  whose  hair  was  all  dis- 
hevelled and  whose  faces  were  smothered  with  powder.  Every 
morning  all  the  loose  women  of  the  neighbourhood,  having  scarcely 
got  rid  of  the  men  picked  up  the  night  before,  came  to  make  their 
purchases,  dragging  their  old  shoes  over  the  pavement,  their  eyes 
heavy  with  want  of  sleep,  and  in  the  bad  temper  caused  by  the 
fatigue  of  a  night  of  dissipation.  Down  every  street  leading  to 
the  market  they  could  be  seen  coming,  all  looking  very  pale,  some 
quite  young  girls  most  seductive  in  appearance,  others  regular 
old  hags,  both  fat  and  flabby,  not  minding  in  the  least  to  be  seen 
thus  outside  their  business  hours;  whilst  the  passers-by  might 
turn  to  look  at  them  without  even  one  of  them  deigning  to  smile, 
for  they  were  all  in  too  much  of  a  hurry  for  that,  and  went  about 
their  errands  with  the  disdainful  airs  of  thrifty  women  who  have 
no  dealings  with  men  whatever.  Just  as  Satin  was  paying  for 
her  bunch  of  radishes,  a  young  man,  some  clerk  who  was  late, 
called  to  her  as  he  passed,  "Good-morning,  darling."  She  at 
once  drew  herself  up  with  the  dignity  of  an  offended  queen,  saying, 

"What's  the  matter  with  that  pig  there?" 

Then  she  thought  she  knew  him.  Three  days  before,  as  she 
was  returning  from  the  Boulevards  about  midnight,  she  had  spoken 


NANA 

to  him  for  about  half-an-hour  at  the  corner  of  the  Rue  Labruyere 
before  he  would  make  up  his  mind.  But  the  recollection  only 
annoyed  her  the  more. 

"What  fools  men  are  to  call  out  such  things  in  the  daytime," 
she  resumed.  "When  one  goes  out  on  one's  private  business, 
one  ought  to  be  respected." 

Nana  had  at  length  selected  her  pigeons,  though  she  had  doubts 
as  to  their  freshness.  Then  Satin  wanted  to  show  her  where  she 
lived;  it  was  close  by  in  the  Rue  Rochefoucauld.  And,  as  soon 
as  they  were  alone  together,  Nana  related  the  story  of  her  love 
for  Fontan.  When  she  reached  her  door,  the  little  one  stood  with 
her  radishes  under  her  arm,  interested  by  the  final  particulars 
given  by  the  other,  who  was  lying  in  her  turn,  saying  that  she  had 
sent  Count  Muffat  out  of  her  place  with  a  kick  behind. 

"Oh!  that  was  grand,  very  grand!"  observed  Satin.  "A  kick 
behind  —  oh,  splendid!  And  he  didn't  dare  say  a  word,  did  he? 
Men  are  such  cowards!  I  should  have  liked  to  have  been  there 
to  have  seen  his  mug.  My  dear,  you  were  right.  Drat  their 
money!  I,  when  I've  a  fancy,  I'd  die  for  it.  Well,  you'll  come  and 
see  me,  won't  you?  The  door  on  the  left.  Knock  three  times,  for 
there  are  always  a  lot  of  people  who  come  to  bother  me." 

After  that  day,  whenever  Nana  felt  dull,  she  went  to  see  Satin. 
She  was  always  certain  of  finding  her  in,  for  the  little  one  never 
went  out  before  six  in  the  evening.  Satin  had  two  rooms,  which  a 
chemist  had  furnished  for  her  so  that  she  should  be  safe  from  the 
police;  but,  in  less  than  thirteen  months,  she  had  broken  the 
furniture,  destroyed  the  seats  of  the  chairs,  soiled  the  curtains, 
and  got  everything  into  such  a  state  of  dirt  and  disorder  that  the 
rooms  looked  as  though  they  were  occupied  by  a  troop  of  mad 
tabbies.  The  mornings  when  she  herself,  quite  disgusted,  started 
cleaning,  legs  of  chairs  and  shreds  of  curtains  remained  in  her 
hands,  so  hard  was  the  battle  she  had  to  fight  with  the  filth. 
On  those  days  everything  looked  dirtier  still  and  it  was  impossible 
to  enter  the  rooms,  for  all  manner  of  things  were  piled  up  in  the 
doorways.  At  length  she  ended  by  neglecting  her  home  altogether. 

In  the  lamp-light  the  wardrobe  with  its  mirror,  the  clock, 
and  what  remained  of  the  curtains,  looked  sufficiently  well  to 
satisfy  the  men  who  came  to  see  her.  Besides,  for  six  months  past, 
her  landlord  had  been  threatening  to  turn  her  out;  so  why  should 
she  trouble  herself  by  looking  after  the  place?  and  for  him,  per- 
il 213  3 


NANA 

haps;  not  if  she  knew  it!  And  whenever  she  got  up  in  a  bad  temper 
she  shouted  out,  "Gee  up!  gee  up!"  giving  formidable  kicks  on 
the  sides  of  the  wardrobe  and  the  chest  of  drawers,  which  were 
cracking  all  over. 

Nana  nearly  always  found  her  in  bed.  Even  the  days  when 
Satin  went  out  on  her  errands,  she  was  always  so  tired  on  her 
return  that  she  would  fall  asleep  again  on  the  edge  of  the  bed. 
During  the  daytime  she  merely  dragged  herself  about,  dozing  on 
the  chairs,  and  never  rousing  from  this  state  of  languor  till  the 
evening  when  the  gas-lamps  were  lit.  And  Nana  always  felt 
very  comfortable  there,  sitting  doing  nothing  in  the  midst  of 
the  untidy  bed,  of  the  basins  full  of  dirty  water,  placed  on  the 
floor,  and  of  the  muddy  skirts,  cast  off  the  night  before,  soiling 
the  chairs  on  which  they  had  been  carelessly  thrown.  She  would 
cackle  and  talk  <  of  her  private  affairs  without  ceasing,  whilst 
Satin,  in  her  shift  and  sprawling  on  the  bed  with  her  feet  in  the 
air,  listened  to  her,  and  smoked  cigarettes.  Sometimes  on  the 
afternoons,  when  they  had  troubles  which  they  wanted  to  forget, 
as  they  said,  they  treated  each  other  to  absinthe.  Then,  without 
going  downstairs,  or  even  putting  on  a  petticoat,  Satin  would  call 
over  the  balusters  for  what  she  wanted,  to  the  concierge's  little 
girl,  a  youngster  of  ten,  who  looked  at  the  lady's  naked  legs  when 
she  brought  up  the  absinthe  in  a  glass.  All  the  conversation  of 
the  two  women  had  reference  to  men's  abominable  ways.  Nana 
was  quite  unendurable  with  her  Fontan;  she  could  not  utter  ten 
words  without  alluding  to  something  he  had  said  or  done.  But 
Satin  good-naturedly  listened  to  these  eternal  stories  of  watch- 
ings  at  the  window,  of  quarrels  about  a  burned  stew,  and  of  re- 
conciliations in  bed  after  hours  of  sulking.  Through  a  hankering 
always  to  talk  about  him,  Nana  ended  by  recounting  all  the  blows 
that  he  gave  her.  Only  the  previous  week  he  had  blackened  her 
eye,  and  the  evening  before,  not  being  able  to  find  his  slippers, 
he  had  given  her  a  blow  which  had  sent  her  reeling  against  the 
night-table.  And  the  other  expressed  no  surprise,  quietly  puffing 
her  cigarette,  and  only  interrupting  Nana  to  say  that  for  her 
part  she  always  ducked,  with  the  result  of  sending  the  gentleman 
and  his  blow  to  the  other  end  of  the  room. 

They  both  became  deeply  interested  in  these  stories  of  beatings, 
feeling  happy  and  diverted  by  the  constant  repetition  of  the  same 
stupid  incidents,  and  yielding  over  again  to  the  warm  and  sluggish 


NANA 

lassitude  occasioned  by  the  infamous  thrashings  of  which  they 
spoke.  It  was  the  enjoyment  of  discussing  Fontan's  blows,  of 
always  talking  about  him,  even  to  describing  his  way  of  taking 
off  his  boots,  that  brought  Nana  there  every  day,  the  more  es- 
pecially as  Satin  invariably  sympathised  with  her.  She  told  in 
return  of  things  that  happened  to  her  which  were  even  worse  — 
of  a  pastry  cook  who  would  leave  her  on  the  ground  for  dead,  and 
whom  all  the  same  she  loved  more  than  ever.  Then  came  the 
days  when  Nana  cried,  and  declared  that  she  could  not  put  up 
with  it  any  longer.  Satin  accompanied  her  to  her  door,  and  waited 
an  hour  in  the  street  to  see  if  Fontan  didn't  murder  her;  and,  on 
the  morrow,  the  two  women  enjoyed  the  afternoon,  discussing  the 
reconciliation,  prefering,  however,  though  without  saying  so,  the 
days  when  there  was  a  good  row  on  because  that  impassioned  them 
the  more. 

They  became  inseparable.  Yet,  Satin  never  went  to  Nana's, 
Fontan  having  declared  that  he  would  not  have  any  strumpets 
in  his  place.  They  would  walk  out  together,  and  it  was  thus 
that  one  day  Satin  took  her  to  call  on  a  woman,  who  turned 
out  to  be  the  Madame  Robert  whom  Nana  often  thought  about 
with  a  certain  respect  ever  since  she  had  declined  to  come  to 
her  supper.  Madame  Robert  lived  in  the  Rue  Mosnier,  one  of 
the  new  and  quiet  streets  near  the  Place  de  P  Europe,  not  con- 
taining a  single  shop,  and  the  handsome  houses  of  which,  with 
their  tiny  suites  of  apartments,  are  entirely  occupied  by  ladies. 
It  was  five  o'clock;  down  the  silent  thoroughfare,  amidst  the 
aristocratic  quietude  of  the  tall  white  houses,  the  broughams  of 
stock-jobbers  and  merchants  awaited,  whilst  men  hurried  along 
the  foot  pavements,  raising  their  eyes  to  the  windows,  where 
women  in  dressing-gowns  seemed  to  be  watching  for  them. 
Nana  at  first  would  not  go  upstairs,  saying  stiffly  that  she  was 
not  acquainted  with  the  lady;  but  Satin  insisted.  One  could 
always  take  a  friend  with  one.  She  was  merely  paying  a  visit 
of  politeness.  Madame  Robert,  whom  she  had  met  the  day  before 
in  a  restaurant,  had  behaved  very  nicely  to  her,  and  had  made 
her  promise  to  come  and  see  her.  So  Nana  at  length  gave  in. 
Upstairs,  a  little  servant,  half  asleep,  said  that  her  mistress  was 
out.  However,  she  ushered  them  into  the  drawing-room,  and  left 
them  there. 

"By  Jove!  how  handsome!"  murmured  Satin. 


NANA 

It  was  furnished  in  the  severe  style  of  the  middle  classes,  and 
the  hangings  were  of  sombre  hue,  whilst  the  whole  had  that 
appearance  of  gentility  usually  to  be  seen  in  the  surroundings 
of  the  Parisian  shopkeeper  who  has  retired  on  a  fortune.  Nana, 
drawing  her  own  conclusions  from  all  this,  began  to  make  a  few 
broad  remarks;  but  Satin  got  angry,  and  answered  for  Madame 
Robert's  virtue.  She  was  always  to  be  met  in  company  with 
grave  elderly  gentlemen,  with  whom  she  walked  arm-in-arm. 
Just  now  she  had  a  retired  chocolate  manufacturer,  who  was  of 
a  most  serious  turn  of  mind.  He  was  so  delighted  with  the  genteel 
appearance  of  the  establishment,  that,  whenever  he  visited  there, 
he  always  made  the  servant  announce  him,  and  addressed  Madame 
Robert  as  his  child. 

"But  look,  that's  she!"  said  Satin,  pointing  to  a  photograph 
placed  in  front  of  the  clock. 

Nana  studied  the  portrait  for  a  minute.  It  represented  a 
very  dark  woman,  with  a  long  face,  and  lips  smiling  discreetly. 
One  would  at  once  have  said,  a  lady  of  fashion,  but  more  reserved. 

"  It's  funny,"  murmured  she,  at  length,  "  I've  certainly  seen 
that  face  somewhere.  Where,  I  no  longer  recollect;  but  it  could 
not  have  been  in  a  respectable  place.  Oh!  no,  it  was  decidedly 
not  in  a  respectable  place;"  and  she  added,  turning  towards  her 
friend,  "So  she  made  you  promise  to  come  and  see  her.  What 
does  she  want  with  you?" 

"What  does  she  want  with  me?  Why,  to  have  a  chat,  no 
doubt;  to  be  a  little  while  together.  It's  mere  politeness." 

Nana  looked  at  Satin  straight  in  the  eyes,  then  she  slightly 
smacked  her  tongue.  Well,  it  didn't  matter  to  her.  However, 
as  the  lady  was  a  long  time  in  coming,  she  declared  that  she 
would  not  wait  any  further,  and  they  both  went  away. 

On  the  morrow,  Fontan  having  told  Nana  that  he  would  not 
be  home  to  dinner,  she  started  off  early  to  find  Satin,  in  order 
to  treat  her  to  a  feast  at  a  restaurant.  The  selection  of  the  restau- 
rant was  a  weighty  affair.  Satin  suggested  various  places,  all 
of  which  Nana  thought  abominable.  At  last  she  induced  her  to 
try  Laure's.  It  was  an  ordinary  in  the  Rue  des  Martyrs,  where 
the  charge  for  dinner  was  three  francs  a-head.  Tired  of  waiting 
until  the  time  when  it  began,  and  not  knowing  how  to  occupy 
themselves  in  the  streets,  they  went  to  Laure's  fully  twenty  minutes 
too  soon.  The  three  rooms  were  still  empty.  They  seated  them- 


NANA 

selves  at  a  table  in  the  room  where  Laure  Piedefer  sat  throned 
behind  a  high  counter.  Laure  was  a  person  about  fifty  years  old, 
of  a  most  massive  figure,  which  was  kept  in  shape  by  the  aid  of 
tightly  laced  stays  and  waist-bands.  A  number  of  women  quickly 
began  to  arrive,  and,  standing  on  tip-toe,  and  leaning  over  the 
piles  of  little  salvers  filled  with  lumps  of  sugar,  they  kissed  Laure 
on  the  mouth  with  tender  familiarity;  whilst  the  fat  monster, 
with  moist  eyes,  tried  to  divide  her  attentions,  so  as  not  to  occasion 
any  jealousies.  The  maid  who  waited  on  the  guests,  unlike  her 
mistress,  was  tall  and  scraggy,  with  an  emaciated  look  about  her, 
and  black  eyelids,  beneath  which  her  eyes  were  lighted  up  with  a 
sombre  fire. 

The  three  rooms  rapidly  filled.  There  were  about  a  hundred 
customers,  disseminated  according  to  the  hazard  of  the  tables, 
most  of  them  about  forty  years  old,  enormous  in  size,  over- 
loaded with  flesh,  and  with  faces  bloated  by  vice;  and  mingling 
with  this  assemblage  of  turgid  breasts  and  stomachs,  were  a  few 
slim,  pretty  girls,  looking  still  ingenuous  in  spite  of  their  brazen 
gestures  —  beginners,  picked  up  at  low  dancing  establishments, 
and  brought  by  some  of  the  customers  to  Laure's,  where  the  mul- 
titude of  big,  flabby  women,  thrown  quite  into  a  flutter  by  the 
sight  of  their  youth,  jostled  one  another,  and  formed  a  court 
around  them,  like  a  crowd  of  anxious  old  boys,  while  treating 
them  to  all  sorts  of  dainties.  As  for  the  men,  they  were  few  in 
number  —  ten  or  fifteen  at  the  most  —  and  they  all  looked  very 
humble  amidst  the  overwhelming  shoal  of  skirts,  with  the  excep- 
tion of  four  fellows,  who  had  merely  come  to  see  the  show,  and 
who  joked  about  it  very  much  at  their  ease. 

"It's  very  good,  their  stew,  isn't  it?"  asked  Satin. 

Nana  nodded  her  head  with  an  air  of  satisfaction.  It  was  a 
solid  dinner,  such  as  used  to  be  given  in  country  hotels  —  vol-au- 
vent,  stewed  fowl  and  rice,  haricot  beans  with  gravy,  and  iced 
vanilla  cream.  The  ladies  went  in  especially  for  the  stewed  fowl 
and  rice,  almost  bursting  in  their  stays,  and  slowly  wiping  their 
lips.  At  first,  Nana  was  afraid  of  meeting  some  of  her  old  acquaint- 
ances, who  might  have  asked  her  stupid  questions — but  she  grew 
more  easy  as  she  noticed  no  one  she  knew  amongst  that  very 
mixed  crowd,  in  which  faded  dresses  and  weather-beaten  bonnets 
were  to  be  seen  side  by  side  with  the  most  elegant  costumes  in 
the  fraternity  of  the  same  corruption.  For  a  minute  she  was 


NANA 

interested  in  a  young  man,  with  short,  curly  hair,  and  an  impudent- 
looking  face,  who  kept  a  whole  table  of  women,  bursting  with 
fat,  and  bent  on  satisfying  his  every  whim,  in  a  breathless  state 
of  anxiety.  But  on  the  young  man  laughing,  his  breasts  rose. 

"Why,  it's  a  woman!"  Nana  exclaimed,  with  a  smothered  cry. 

Satin,  who  was  stuffing  herself  with  fowl,  raised  her  head,  and 
then  whispered. 

"Ah!  yes,  I  know  her;  she's  quite  the  go!   They're  all  after  her." 

Nana  pouted  with  disgust.  She  couldn't  understand  that.  Yet 
she  said,  in  her  reasonable  sort  of  way,  that  it  was  no  use  arguing 
about  tastes  and  colours,  for  one  never  knew  what  one  might  like 
some  day;  and  she  ate  her  ice  cream  with  a  philosophical  air, 
perfectly  aware  of  the  sensation  Satin  was  causing  among  the 
neighbouring  tables  with  her  big,  blue,  virgin-like  eyes.  She  more 
especially  noticed  a  large,  fair-haired  person  seated  near  her,  who 
was  making  herself  most  amiable.  She  gave  such  glances,  and 
edged  up  so  close,  that  Nana  was  on  the  point  of  interfering. 

But  just  at  that  moment  a  woman  entered  the  room,  who 
caused  her  a  great  surprise.  She  had  recognised  Madame  Robert. 
The  latter,  with  her  pretty  look  of  a  little  brown  mouse,  nodded 
familiarly  to  the  tall,  scraggy  maid,  and  then  went  and  leaned 
against  Laure's  counter,  and  they  both  kissed  each  other  a  long 
time.  Nana  thought  this  caress  rather  peculiar  on  the  part  of  so 
lady-like  a  woman,  the  more  especially  as  Madame  Robert  no 
longer  had  her  modest  look,  but  the  contrary.  She  glanced  about 
the  room,  as  she  conversed  in  a  low  tone  of  voice.  Laure  had  just 
sat  down  again,  once  more  throning  herself  with  the  majesty  of 
an  old  idol  of  vice,  with  face  worn  and  polished  by  the  kisses  of 
the  faithful;  and,  from  above  the  plates  of  viands,  she  reigned 
over  her  connection  of  big,  bloated  women,  bulkier  than  even  the 
most  enormous  of  them,  and  enjoying  the  fortune  that  had  re- 
warded forty  years  of  labour. 

Madame  Robert,  however,  had  caught  sight  of  Satin.  So  leav- 
ing Laure,  she  hastened  to  her,  and  was  most  amiable,  saying  she 
regretted  extremely  having  been  out  on  the  previous  day;  and  as 
Satin,  quite  charmed,  insisted  on  making  room  for  her  at  the  table, 
she  declared  that  she  had  dined.  She  had  merely  come  to  look 
about.  As  she  talked,  standing  up  behind  her  new  friend,  she 
leant  on  her  shoulders,  and,  in  a  smiling,  wheedling  way,  kept 
saying , 


NANA 

"Well,  when  shall  I  see  you?    Do  you  happen  to  be  free  — " 

Nana,  unfortunately,  was  unable  to  hear  more.  The  conver- 
sation annoyed  her,  and  she  was  burning  to  give  that  respectable 
woman  a  bit  of  her  mind;  but  the  sight  of  a  troop  of  people  just 
arrived  paralysed  her.  It  consisted  of  some  very  stylish  women, 
in  gorgeous  dresses  and  diamonds.  Displaying  their  hundreds  of 
francs'  worth  of  precious  stones  on  their  persons,  and  seized  with 
an  inclination  to  visit  the  old  haunt,  they  had  come  in  a  party 
to  Laure's,  whom  they  treated  most  familiarly,  to  dine  there  at 
three  francs  a  head,  amidst  the  jealous  astonishment  of  the  other 
poor,  mud-bedabbled  women.  When  they  entered,  with  loud 
voices  and  clear,  ringing  laughter,  bringing,  as  it  were,  a  ray  of 
sunshine  from  the  outside,  Nana  quickly  turned  her  head,  greatly 
annoyed  at  seeing  Lucy  Stewart  and  Maria  Blond  amongst  them. 
For  close  upon  five  minutes,  during  the  whole  time  these  ladies 
were  conversing  with  Laure,  before  passing  into  the  next  room, 
she  kept  her  face  bent  down,  pretending  to  be  very  busy  in  rolling 
some  bread  crumbs  over  the  cloth.  Then,  when  she  was  at  length 
able  to  turn  round,  she  was  aghast  at  seeing  that  the  chair  next 
to  her  was  empty.  Satin  had  disappeared. 

"Whatever  has  become  of  her?"  she  unconsciously  exclaimed 
aloud. 

The  big,  fair-haired  woman,  who  had  been  so  attentive  to  Satin, 
laughed  ill-humouredly;  and  as  Nana,  irritated  by  the  laugh, 
gave  her  a  menacing  look,  she  said  softly,  in  a  drawling  tone 
of  voice, 

"It's  certainly  not  I  who've  run  away  with  her,  it's  the  other 
one." 

And  Nana,  understanding  that  she  would  only  get  laughed  at, 
held  her  tongue.  She  even  remained  seated  a  short  time  longer, 
not  wishing  to  show  her  annoyance.  From  the  other  room  she 
could  hear  the  voice  of  Lucy  Stewart,  who  was  standing  treat  to 
a  whole  table  of  girls,  who  had  come  from  the  dancing  places  of 
Montmartre  and  La  Chapelle.  It  was  very  warm.  The  maid 
was  removing  piles  of  dirty  plates,  smelling  strongly  of  the  stewed 
fowl  and  rice,  whilst  the  four  gentlemen  had  ended  by  standing 
some  strong  wine  to  several  different  parties  of  women,  in  hope 
of  making  them  drunk,  and  of  hearing  something  smutty.  What 
exasperated  Nana  was  having  to  pay  for  Satin's  dinner.  She  was 
a  nice  hussy  to  allow  herself  to  be  well  stuffed,  and  then  to  go  off 

£219:1 


NANA 

with  the  first  who  asked  her,  without  even  saying  "Thank  you!" 
It  was,  it  is  true,  only  three  francs,  but  she  thought  it  hard,  all 
the  same.  It  was  such  a  dirty  trick  to  play.  She  paid,  however, 
banging  her  six  francs  down  before  Laure,  whom  she  despised  then 
more  than  the  mud  in  the  gutter. 

In  the  Rue  des  Martyrs  Nana's  rancour  increased.  She  cer- 
tainly wouldn't  go  and  run  after  Satin  —  she  wouldn't  go  near 
such  a  vile  creature!  But  all  the  same  her  evening  was  spoilt, 
and  she  returned  slowly  towards  Montmartre,  feeling  frightfully 
enraged  with  Madame  Robert.  That  one  certainly  had  a  famous 
cheek  to  pretend  she  was  a  respectable  woman.  She  was  respect- 
able enough  for  a  dust-bin!  Now  she  recollected  perfectly  of  hav- 
ing seen  her  at  the  "Butterfly,"  a  foul  dancing-place  in  the  Rue 
des  Poissonniers,  where  she  used  to  sell  herself  for  thirty  sous.  And 
she  got  hold  of  government  officials  by  her  modest  ways,  and  she 
refused  suppers,  to  which  she  had  been  honoured  by  an  invitation, 
just  to  pretend  that  she  was  a  virtuous  person!  Ah!  she  should 
have  some  virtue  given  her!  It  was  always  such  prudes  as  she 
who  got  hold  of  the  most  shocking  diseases,  in  ignoble  holes  that 
no  one  else  knew  of. 

However,  Nana,  while  thinking  of  all  these  things,  had  at 
length  arrived  home  in  the  Rue  Veron.  She  was  amazed  to  see 
a  light  in  the  windows.  Fontan,  having  been  left  directly  after 
dinner  by  the  friend  who  had  invited  him,  had  come  home  in  a 
very  bad  humour.  He  listened  in  a  cold  way  to  the  explanations 
she  hastened  to  give  in  her  fear  of  being  knocked  about  and  her 
bewilderment  at  seeing  him  there  when  she  had  not  expected 
him  before  one  in  the  morning;  she  lied,  for  though  she  admitted 
spending  six  francs,  she  said  she  had  been  with  Madame  Maloir. 
He  remained  wrapt  in  his  dignity,  and  handed  her  a  letter,  which 
he  had  coolly  opened  although  addressed  to  her.  It  was  a  letter 
from  George,  who  was  still  kept  at  Les  Fondettes,  and  who  gave 
vent  to  his  feelings  every  week  in  several  pages  of  the  most  im- 
passioned language.  Nana  was  delighted  when  anyone  wrote  to 
her,  expecially  letters  full  of  vows  of  love.  She  read  them  to  every- 
one. Fontan  was  acquainted  with  George's  style,  and  appreciated 
it.  But  that  night  she  so  feared  a  row  that  she  affected  the  greatest 
indifference;  she  glanced  through  the  letter  in  a  sulky  sort  of  way, 
and  then  threw  it  on  one  side.  Fontan  was  beating  the  tattoo 
on  a  window  pane,  not  wanting  to  go  to  bed  so  early,  and  not 

C2203 


NANA 

knowing  what  to  do  to  while  away  the  evening.     Suddenly  he 
turned  round. 

"Suppose  we  write  an  answer  to  the  youngster  at  once,"  said  he. 

It  was  usually  he  who  wrote;  he  had  a  much  finer  style.  And 
then  he  was  pleased  when  Nana,  full  of  admiration  for  his  letter, 
which  he  would  read  out  aloud,  would  kiss  him  and  exclaim  that 
only  he  could  find  such  pretty  things  to  say.  And  all  that  ended 
by  exciting  them,  and  they  adored  each  other. 

"As  you  like,"  she  replied.  "I  will  make  some  tea.  We  can 
go  to  bed  afterwards." 

Then  Fontan  made  himself  comfortable  at  the  table,  with  a 
great  display  of  pen,  ink,  and  paper.  He  rounded  his  arms,  and 
thrust  out  his  chin. 

"My  heart,"  he  began,  reading  out  loud. 

And  he  worked  away  for  more  than  an  hour,  reflecting  occasion- 
ally about  a  sentence,  his  head  buried  in  his  hands,  and  laughing 
to  himself  whenever  he  thought  of  some  expression  exceptionally 
tender.  Nana  had  already  taken  two  cups  of  tea  in  silence.  At 
length  he  read  the  letter  as  they  read  on  the  stage,  just  making 
a  few  gestures.  He  wrote,  on  five  sides  of  paper,  about  the  "de- 
licious hours  passed  at  La  Mignotte,  the  memory  of  which  would 
remain  like  subtile  perfumes,"  he  swore  "an  eternal  fidelity  to 
that  springtide  of  love,"  and  ended  in  declaring  that  his  sole 
desire  was  "to  recommence  that  happiness,  if  happiness  can  com- 
mence again." 

"You  know,"  he  explained,  "I  say  all  that  out  of  politeness. 
As  it's  only  for  fun  —  well!  I  think  it'll  do!" 

He  was  delighted  with  himself.  But  Nana,  still  dreading  a 
row,  was  foolish  enough  not  to  throw  her  arms  round  his  neck 
and  utter  words  of  admiration.  She  thought  the  letter  would 
do  very  well,  but  that  was  all.  Then  he  was  very  much  put  out. 
If  his  letter  did  not  please  her  she  could  write  another  one;  and, 
instead  of  embracing  each  other,  as  they  usually  did  after  a  great 
many  protestations  of  love,  they  remained  very  cold  on  either 
side  of  the  table.  She  had,  however,  poured  him  out  a  cup  of  tea. 

"What  muck!"  he  cried,  as  he  wetted  his  lips  with  it.  "You 
have  been  putting  salt  into  it!"  Nana  unhappily  shrugged  her 
shoulders.  He  became  furious.  "Ah!  everything's  going  wrong 
this  evening!" 

And  the  quarrel  started  from  that.    It  was  only  ten  by  the  clock, 


NANA 

so  it  was  a  way  of  killing  time.  He  worked  himsejf  up,  he  flung 
all  sorts  of  accusations  at  her,  full  of  insults,  without  giving  her 
time  to  answer  them.  She  was  dirty,  she  was  idiotic,  she  had 
led  a  fine  life !  Then  he  raved  about  the  money.  Was  he  in  the 
habit  of  spending  six  francs  when  he  dined  out?  He  had  his  din- 
ners paid  for,  otherwise  he  would  have  taken  pot-luck  at  home. 
And  all  for  that  old  procuress  Maloir,  too  —  an  old  hag  whom 
he  would  pitch  downstairs  if  she  dared  show  herself  there  again! 
Ah  well!  they  would  go  far  if  every  day  they  chucked -six  francs 
into  the  street  in  that  style! 

"First  of  all,"  cried  he,  "I  must  have  your  accounts!  Come, 
give  me  the  money;  let  me  see  how  we  stand  now!" 

All  his  miserly  instincts  were  awakened.  Nana,  subdued  and 
terrified,  hastened  to  fetch  the  money  that  was  left  from  the 
drawer,  and  laid  it  before  him.  Until  then  the  key  had  been 
left  in  the  lock  and  they  had  each  taken  what  they  needed. 

"What!"  said  he,  after  counting,  "there  are  scarcely  seven 
thousand  francs  remaining  out  of  seventeen  thousand,  and  we 
have  only  been  living  together  for  three  months.  It  isn't  possible." 

He  rushed  from  his  seat  and  turned  out  the  drawer  by  the  light 
of  the  lamp.  But  there  were  really  only  six  thousand  eight  hundred 
and  a  few  odd  francs.  Then  the  row  became  a  regular  storm. 

"Ten  thousand  francs  in  three  months!"  he  bellowed.  "Dam- 
nation! what  have  you  done  with  them,  eh?  Answer  me!  It  all 
goes  to  your  old  hag  of  an  aunt,  eh?  or  else  you've  been  treating 
yourself  —  that's  very  clear.  Answer  me  at  once!" 

"Ah!  you  get  in  a  passion  instantly!"  said  Nana.  "It's  very 
easy  to  make  up  the  account.  You  forget  all  the  furniture;  then 
I  am  obliged  to  buy  a  lot  of  linen.  Money  soon  goes  when  there 
is  everything  to  buy." 

But  though  he  demanded  explanations,  he  would  not  listen  to 
them. 

"Yes,  it  goes  a  great  deal  too  quickly,"  resumed  he  in  a  calmer 
tone  of  voice;  "and  look  here,  young  woman,  I've  had  enough 
of  this  share  and  share  alike  business.  These  seven  thousand 
francs,  you  know,  are  mine.  Well!  now  I've  got  them,  I  intend 
to  stick  to  them.  As  you're  so  wasteful  as  all  that,  I'll  take  care 
I'm  not  ruined.  One  has  a  right  to  one's  own";  and  he  magis- 
terially put  the  money  in  his  pocket,  whilst  Nana  looked  at  him 
in  amazement.  Then  he  complaisantly  continued,  "You  under- 


NANA 

stand,  I'm  not  such  a  fool  as  to  keep  aunts  and  children  who  are 
not  mine.  It  pleased  you  to  spend  your  money,  and  that  was 
your  business;  but  mine  is  sacred!  When  you  cook  a  leg  of 
mutton,  Til  pay  half.  Every  night  we'll  settle  up!" 

On  hearing  this,  Nana  revolted.  She  could  not  restrain  a  cry, 
"  I  say,  that's  disgusting!  You  had  your  share  of  my  ten  thousand 
francs!" 

But  he  did  not  waste  more  time  in  discussion.  Leaning  across 
the  table,  he  gave  her  a  slap  in  the  face  with  all  his  might,  exclaim- 
ing, "Say  that  again!" 

She  did  so,  in  spite  of  the  slap,  and  then  he  fell  upon  her  with 
kicks  and  blows.  He  soon  put  her  into  such  a  state  that  she  ended, 
as  usual,  by  undressing  herself  and  going  sobbing  to  bed.  He 
puffed  and  blowed,  and  was  also  about  to  get  into  bed,  when  he 
noticed  the  letter  he  had  written  for  George  lying  on  the  table. 
Then  he  folded  it  up  with  care,  and  turning  towards  the  bed,  said 
menacingly, 

"The  letter  will  do  very  well.  I  will  post  it  myself,  because  I 
don't  intend  to  put  up  with  any  caprices.  And  don't  whine,  for 
it  annoys  me." 

Nana,  who  was  weeping  bitterly,  held  her  breath.  When  he 
got  into  bed,  she  felt  as  though  choking,  and  throwing  herself 
on  his  breast,  sobbed  aloud.  Their  battles  always  ended  thus. 
She  trembled  at  the  thought  of  losing  him.  She  felt  a  mean 
want  of  knowing  he  was  all  her  own,  in  spite  of  everything. 
He  twice  pushed  her  away  with  a  haughty  gesture;  but  the  warm 
embrace  of  the  supplicating  woman,  with  her  large  tearful  eyes, 
resembling  those  of  some  faithful  animal,  kindled  a  flame  of  de- 
sire within  him.  And  he  acted  the  good  prince,  without,  however, 
stooping  to  make  any  advances.  He  let  himself  be  caressed,  and, 
so  to  say,  taken  by  force,  in  the  style  of  a  man  whose  forgiveness 
is  worth  winning.  Then  he  was  seized  with  anxiety.  He  feared 
that  Nana  had  only  been  acting  a  little  comedy  to  get  possession 
of  the  cash  again.  He  had  blown  out  the  candle,  when  he  thought 
it  necessary  to  assert  once  more  his  authority. 

"You  know,  my  girl,  I  meant  what  I  said.  I  intend  to  keep 
the  money." 

Nana,  who  was  going  to  sleep  with  her  arms  round  his  neck, 
said  sublimely,  "Yes,  never  fear;  I  will  work." 

But  from  that  evening  their  life  together  became  worse  than 

C223] 


NANA 

ever.  From  one  end  of  the  week  to  the  other  the  sound  of  slaps 
could  be  heard,  just  like  the  tick-tick  of  a  pendulum  which  seemed 
to  regulate  their  existence.  Nana,  through  being  beaten  so  fre- 
quently, became  as  supple  as  fine  linen;  and  it  made  her  skin  so 
delicate,  and  so  soft  to  the  touch  —  her  complexion  so  pink  and 
white,  so  clear  to  the  eye  —  that  she  was  more  beautiful  than  ever. 
And  that  was  why  Prulliere  was  for  ever  dangling  about  her  skirts, 
calling  when  he  knew  Fontan  would  not  be  there,  and  pushing  her 
up  into  corners  and  trying  to  kiss  her;  but  she,  at  once  becoming 
highly  indignant,  struggled  and  blushed  with  shame.  She  thought 
it  disgusting  of  him  to  wish  to  deceive  his  friend.  Then  Prulliere 
sneered  with  vexation.  Really,  she  was  becoming  precious  stupid! 
How  could  she  stick  to  such  a  monkey?  for  Fontan  was  indeed 
a  monkey,  with  his  big  nose  for  ever  on  the  move  —  a  disgusting 
pig!  and  a  fellow,  too,  who  was  always  knocking  her  about! 

"That  may  be,  but  I  love  him  as  he  is,"  she  replied  one  day, 
in  the  cool  way  of  a  woman  owning  to  some  most  revolting  taste. 

Bosc  contented  himself  with  dining  there  as  often  as  possible. 
He  shrugged  his  shoulders  behind  Prulliere;  a  handsome  fellow, 
but  not  serious.  He  had  often  assisted  at  rows  in  the  house. 
During  dessert,  when  Fontan  slapped  Nana,  he  would  continue 
chewing  in  a  matter-of-fact  way,  thinking  it  the  most  natural 
thing  in  the  world.  By  the  way  of  paying  for  his  dinners,  he  always 
pretended  to  be  in  raptures  at  the  sight  of  their  happiness.  He 
proclaimed  himself  a  philosopher;  he  had  renounced  everything, 
even  glory.  Prulliere  and  Fontan,  leaning  back  in  their  chairs, 
would  sometimes  forget  themselves  after  the  table  had  been 
cleared,  and  fall  to  relating  their  successes  up  to  two  o'clock  in 
the  morning,  with  their  stage  voices  and  gestures;  whilst  he, 
wrapt  in  thought,  and  only  occasionally  giving  a  little  sniff  of 
disdain,  would  silently  finish  the  bottle  of  brandy.  What  was 
left  of  Talma?  Nothing.  Then  they  had  better  shut  up,  and 
not  make  such  fools  of  themselves! 

One  night  he  found  Nana  in  tears.  She  removed  her  bodice 
and  showed  him  her  back  and  arms  covered  with  bruises.  He 
looked  at  the  skin,  without  being  tempted  to  take  advantage  of 
the  situation,  as  that  fool  Prulliere  would  have  been.  Then  he 
sententiously  observed, 

"My  child,  wherever  there  are  women,  there  are  slaps.  It 
was  Napoleon  who  said  that,  I  think.  Bathe  yourself  with  salt 


NANA 

water.  Salt  water  is  excellent  for  such  trifles.  Take  my  word 
for  it,  you  will  receive  a  great  many  more;  and  do  not  complain, 
so  long  as  there  is  nothing  broken.  You  know,  I  shall  invite 
myself  to  dinner;  I  noticed  a  leg  of  mutton." 

But  Madame  Lerat  was  not  gifted  with  similar  philosophy. 
Each  time  Nana  showed  her  a  fresh  bruise  on  her  white  skin, 
she  complained  loudly.  Her  niece  was  being  murdered;  it  could 
not  last.  The  truth  was,  Fontan  had  turned  Madame  Lerat  out, 
and  said  that  he  would  not  have  her  in  the  place  again;  and, 
ever  since  that  day,  if  she  happened  to  be  there  when  he  returned 
home,  she  was  obliged  to  take  her  departure  by  way  of  the 
kitchen,  which  humiliated  her  immensely.  And  so  she  never 
ceased  abusing  that  unmannerly  person.  With  the  airs  of  a 
most  well-bred  woman,  to  whom  no  one  could  teach  anything 
pertaining  to  a  polite  education,  she  reproached  him  with  having 
been  shockingly  badly  brought  up. 

"Oh!  one  can  see  that  at  a  glance,"  she  would  say  to  Nana. 
"He  has  no  idea  of  even  the  slightest  propriety.  His  mother 
must  have  been  a  very  low  woman.  Don't  deny  it,  he  shows  it 
only  too  plainly!  I  do  not  say  it  on  my  own  account,  although 
a  person  of  my  age  has  a  right  to  a  certain  respect;  but  you, 
really  now,  how  do  you  manage  to  put  up  with  his  bad  manners? 
for,  without  flattering  myself,  I  always  taught  you  how  to  behave 
yourself,  and  in  your  own  home  you  received  the  very  best  advice. 
We  were  all  very  respectable  in  our  family,  were  we  not?" 

Nana  did  not  protest,  she  listened  with  her  head  bowed  down. 

"Then,"  continued  the  aunt,  "you  have  only  been  acquainted 
with  well-to-do  people.  We  were  just  talking  about  it  last  night 
at  home  with  Zoe.  She  can't  understand  either  why  you  put  up 
with  all  this.  'How,'  said  she,  'can  madame,  who  could  do  just 
as  she  pleased  with  the  count'  —  for  between  ourselves  you  appear 
to  have  treated  him  as  though  he  were  a  donkey  4-  'how  can  ma- 
dame  allow  herself  to  be  massacred  by  that  ugly  clown?'  I 
added  that  slaps  might  even  be  borne,  but  that  I  would  never 
have  submitted  to  such  a  want  of  respect.  In  short,  he  has 
nothing  whatever  in  his  favour.  I  wouldn't  have  his  portrait 
in  my  room  on  any  account.  And  you  are  ruining  yourself  for 
such  a  sorry  bird  as  he  is;  yes,  you  are  ruining  yourself,  my  darling. 
You  are  going  about  in  want  of  everything,  when  there  are  so 
many  others,  and  far  richer  ones  too,  and  gentlemen  connected 


NANA 

with  the  government.  But  that's  enough!  it's  not  I  who  ought 
to  tell  you  all  this.  However,  were  I  in  your  place,  the  very 
next  time  he  treated  me  ill,  I'd  leave  him  to  himself,  with  a  'Sir, 
whom  do  you  take  me  for?'  said  in  your  grand  style,  you  know, 
which  would  show  him  you  were  not  going  to  be  made  a  fool 
of  any  longer. 

Then  Nana  burst  into  tears,  and  sobbed:  "Oh!  aunt,  I  love  him." 

The  truth  was  Madame  Lerat  was  feeling  very  anxious,  seeing 
that  it  was  only  with  the  greatest  difficulty  that  her  niece  man- 
aged to  give  her  a  twenty  sous  piece  at  distant  intervals,  to  pay 
for  little  Louis's  board.  Of  course  she  would  do  her  utmost,  she 
would  keep  the  child  all  the  same,  and  wait  for  better  times; 
but  the  idea  that  it  was  Fontan  who  was  the  cause  why  she,  the 
child  and  its  mother  were  not  rolling  in  wealth  enraged  her  to 
such  a  pitch,  that  she  denied  the  existence  of  love.  Accordingly 
she  concluded  with  these  harsh  words: 

"Listen;  one  day  when  he  has  skinned  you  alive,  you  will 
come  and  knock  at  my  door,  and  I  will  let  you  in." 

The  want  of  funds  soon  became  Nana's  great  care.  The  seven 
thousand  francs  Fontan  had  taken  had  quite  disappeared.  No 
doubt  he  had  put  them  in  some  safe  place,  and  she  did  not  dare 
question  him;  for  she  was  very  timid  with  that  sorry  bird,  as 
Madame  Lerat  styled  him.  She  trembled  lest  he  should  think 
her  capable  of  sticking  to  him  for  the  sake  of  his  money.  He  had 
promised  to  give  something  towards  the  housekeeping  expenses, 
and  he  started  by  giving  three  francs  every  morning;  but  he 
expected  all  sorts  of  things  for  his  money.  He  wanted  everything 
for  his  three  francs  —  butter,  meat,  early  fruit,  and  vegetables; 
and  if  she  hazarded  an  observation  —  if  she  insinuated  that  it 
was  impossible  to  purchase  all  in  the  market  for  three  twenty 
sous  pieces  —  he  fumed,  he  called  her  a  good-for-nothing,  an  ex- 
travagant hussy,  a  stupid  fool  whom  the  market  people  robbed, 
and  invariably  wound  up  by  threatening  to  get  his  meals  else- 
where. Then  after  the  expiration  of  a  month,  on  some  mornings 
he  would  forget  to  leave  the  three  francs  on  the  top  of  the  chest 
of  drawers.  She  ventured  to  ask  him  for  them  timidly,  in  a  round- 
about way;  but  this  had  occasioned  such  quarrels  —  he  made  her 
life  so  miserable  on  the  first  pretext  he  could  get  hold  of  —  that 
she  preferred  no  longer  to  count  on  him.  Whenever  he  had  not 
left  the  money,  and  found  all  the  same  a  good  dinner  ready  for 

[226] 


NANA 

him,  he  was  as  gay  as  a  lark,  and  most  amiable,  embracing  Nana 
and  waltzing  about  the  room  with  the  chairs.  And  this  made 
her  so  happy  that  she  reached  the  point  of  wishing  not  to  find 
anything  on  the  drawers,  in  spite  of  the  difficulty  she  had  in  mak- 
ing both  ends  meet.  One  morning  even  she  returned  him  his  three 
francs,  telling  him  a  long  rigmarole  about  having  some  money 
left  from  the  previous  day.  As  he  had  given  nothing  for  two  days 
he  hesitated  for  a  moment,  fearing  a  lesson.  But  she  looked  at 
him  with  her  eyes  overflowing  with  love,  she  embraced  him  with 
a  complete  abandonment  of  her  whole  person;  and  he  put  the 
money  back  into  his  pocket,  with  the  slight  convulsive  trepidation 
of  a  miser  recovering  an  amount  that  had  been  in  danger.  From 
that  day  he  ceased  to  trouble  himself,  never  asking  where  the 
money  came  from,  looking  very  black  when  there  were  only 
potatoes,  and  laughing  fit  to  dislocate  his  jaws  on  beholding  a 
turkey  or  a  leg  of  mutton;  without  prejudice,  however,  to  sundry 
cuffs  with  which  he  favoured  Nana,  even  in  his  happiest  moments, 
just  to  keep  his  hand  in  training. 

Nana  had  therefore  found  means  of  supplying  everything.  On 
certain  days  the  house  was  glutted  with  food.  Bosc  feasted  there 
so  sumptuously  twice  a  week  that  he  suffered  from  indigestion. 
One  evening  as  Madame  Lerat  was  leaving,  angry  at  seeing  before 
the  fire  an  abundant  dinner  of  which  she  was  not  to  partake,  she 
could  not  resist  bluntly  asking  who  it  was  who  paid  for  it.  Nana, 
taken  by  surprise,  no  longer  knew  what  she  was  about  and  began 
to  cry. 

"Well!  it's  a  nice  state  of  things,"  said  the  aunt,  who  under- 
stood. 

Nana  had  resigned  herself  for  the  sake  of  peace  and  quietness 
in  her  home.  It  was  partly,  too,  the  fault  of  old  Tricon,  whom 
she  had  met  in  the  Rue  de  Laval  one  day  when  Fontan  had  gone 
off  in  a  fury  because  there  had  been  nothing  but  salt  cod  for  din- 
ner. So  she  had  said  "yes"  to  old  Tricon,  who  happened  to  be 
in  a  difficulty.  After  that,  as  Fontan  never  came  home  before 
six  in  the  evening,  she  was  able  to  dispose  of  her  afternoons,  and 
often  brought  back  as  much  as  forty  or  sixty  francs,  and  sometimes 
more.  She  might  have  made  as  much  as  ten  and  fifteen  louis  had 
she  been  entirely  free;  but  still  she  was  very  glad  to  get  enough 
to  keep  things  going.  At  night-time  she  forgot  all,  when  Bosc 
was  almost  bursting  with  food,  and  Fontan,  with  his  elbows  on 


NANA 

the  table,  let  her  kiss  his  eyes  with  the  self-satisfied  air  of  a  man 
who  is  loved  for  himself  alone. 

Then,  whilst  adoring  her  darling,  her  dear  love,  with  a  passion 
all  the  more  blinding  as  it  was  she  who  now  paid  for  all,  Nana 
reverted  again  to  the  depravity  of  her  early  days.  She  walked 
the  streets  as  she  did  when  a  young  girl  in  quest  of  a  five  francs 
piece.  One  Sunday,  at  the  Rochefoucauld  market,  she  made  it 
up  with  Satin,  after  flying  at  her  and  bullying  her  on  account  of 
Madame  Robert.  But  Satin  merely  replied  that  when  one  did 
not  like  a  thing,  one  had  no  right  to  seek  to  disgust  others  with 
it;  and  Nana,  who  was  by  no  means  narrow-minded,  yielded  to 
the  philosophical  idea  that  one  never  knows  how  one  may  end, 
and  forgave  her.  And  her  curiosity  being  awakened,  she  even 
questioned  her  in  regard  to  some  details  of  vice,  amazed  at  learn- 
ing something  fresh  at  her  age,  after  all  she  knew.  She  laughed, 
and  thought  it  very  funny,  yet  feeling  all  the  time  a  slight  repug- 
nance, for  at  heart  she  was  rather  conservative  in  her  habits. 
She  often  went  to  Laure's  when  Fontan  dined  out.  She  was 
amused  with  the  stories  she  heard  there,  with  the  loves  and  the 
jealousies  which  had  so  much  interest  for  the  other  customers, 
though  they  never  caused  them  to  lose  a  mouthful.  However 
she  was  never  mixed  up  with  them,  as  she  said.  Stout  Laure, 
with  her  maternal  affection,  often  invited  her  to  spend  a  few  days 
at  her  villa  at  Asnieres  —  a  country  house  where  there  were 
rooms  for  seven  ladies.  She  declined  —  she  was  afraid;  but  Satin 
having  declared  to  her  that  she  was  mistaken,  that  gentlemen  from 
Paris  would  swing  them  and  play  at  different  games  in  the  garden 
with  them,  she  promised  to  come  later  on,  as  soon  as  she  was  able 
to  get  away. 

At  that  time  Nana  was  very  worried,  and  was  not  much  in- 
clined for  a  spree.  She  was  greatly  in  want  of  money.  When  old 
Tricon  had  nothing  for  her,  and  that  occurred  only  too  often, 
she  did  not  know  whom  to  go  to.  Then  she  would  wander  about 
with  Satin  all  over  Paris,  amidst  that  degrading  vice  which 
prowls  along  the  muddy  by-streets,  beneath  the  dim  glimmer  of 
the  gas  lamps.  Nana  returned  to  the  low  dancing  places  of  the 
barriers,  where  she  had  first  learned  to  hop  about  with  her  dirty 
skirts.  She  once  more  beheld  the  dark  corners  of  the  outer 
Boulevards,  the  posts  against  which  men  used  to  kiss  her  when 
only  fifteen  years  old,  whilst  her  father  was  seeking  her  to  give 


NANA 

her  a  hiding.  They  both  hastened  along,  visiting  all  the  balls 
and  the  cafes  of  a  locality,  crawling  up  stairs  wet  with  saliva 
and  spilt  beer;  or  else  they  walked  slowly,  following  street  after 
street,  and  standing  up  every  now  and  then  in  the  doorways. 
Satin,  who  had  first  appeared  in  the  Quartier  Latin,  took  Nana 
there,  to  BuIIier's,  and  to  the  cafes  of  the  Boulevard  Saint-Michel. 
But  it  was  vacation  time,  and  the  quarter  was  almost  deserted; 
so  they  returned  to  the  principal  Boulevards.  It  was  there  that 
they  met  with  most  luck.  From  the  heights  of  Montmartre  to 
the  plateau  where  the  Observatory  was  situated,  they  thus  rambled 
about  the  entire  city.  Rainy  nights  when  their  shoes  would  be- 
come trodden  down  at  heel,  warm  nights  which  made  their  clothes 
adhere  to  their  skin,  long  waits  and  endless  wanderings,  jostlings 
and  quarrels,  brutal  abuse  from  a  passer-by  enticed  into  some 
obscure  lodging,  down  the  dirty  stairs  of  which  he  retired  swearing. 
The  summer  was  drawing  to  a  close  —  a  stormy  summer,  with 
sultry  nights.  They  would  start  off  together  after  dinner,  about 
nine  o'clock.  Along  the  pavements  of  the  Rue  Notre-Dame  de 
Lorette,  two  lines  of  women,  keeping  close  to  the  shops,  holding 
up  their  skirts,  their  noses  pointing  to  the  ground,  might  be  seen 
hastening  towards  the  Boulevards,  without  bestowing  a  glance  on 
the  displays  in  the  windows,  and  looking  as  though  they  had  some 
most  important  business  on  hand.  It  was  the  famished  onslaught 
of  the  Breda  quarter,  which  commenced  with  the  first  glimmer  of 
the  gas-light.  Nana  and  Satin  passed  close  to  the  church,  and 
always  went  along  the  Rue  Le  Peletier.  Then,  at  a  hundred  yards 
from  the  Cafe  Riche,  having  reached  the  exercising  ground,  they 
would  let  fall  the  trains  of  their  dresses,  which  until  that  moment 
they  had  carefully  held  in  their  hands;  and  after  then,  regardless 
of  the  dust,  sweeping  the  pavement  and  swinging  their  bodies, 
they  would  walk  slowly  along,  moving  slower  still  whenever  they 
came  into  the  flood  of  light  of  some  large  cafe.  Holding  their 
heads  high,  laughing  loudly,  and  looking  back  after  the  men  who 
turned  to  glance  at  them,  they  were  in  their  element.  Their 
whitened  faces,  spotted  with  the  red  of  their  lips  and  the  black 
of  their  eye-lashes,  assumed  in  the  shadow  the  disturbing  charm 
of  some  imitation  Eastern  bazaar  held  in  the  open  street.  Until 
twelve  o'clock,  in  spite  of  the  jostling  of  the  crowd,  they  pro- 
menaded gaily  along,  merely  muttering  "stupid  fool!"  now  and 
again  behind  the  backs  of  the  awkward  fellows  whose  heels  caught 


NANA 

in  their  flounces.  They  exchanged  familiar  nods  with  the  cafe 
waiters,  lingered  sometimes  to  talk  at  the  tables,  accepting  drinks 
which  they  swallowed  slowly,  like  persons  happy  at  having  the 
chance  to  sit  down,  while  waiting  till  the  people  came  out  of  the 
theatres.  But,  as  the  night  advanced,  if  they  had  not  made  one 
or  two  trips  to  the  Rue  La  Rochefoucauld,  their  pursuit  became 
more  eager  —  they  no  longer  picked  and  chose.  Beneath  the 
trees  of  the  now  gloomy  and  almost  deserted  Boulevards,  ferocious 
bargains  were  made,  and  occasionally  the  sound  of  oaths  and 
blows  would  be  heard;  whilst  fathers  of  families,  with  their 
wives  and  daughters,  used  to  such  encounters,  would  pass  sedately 
by  without  hastening  their  footsteps. 

Then,  after  having  made  the  tour  ten  times  from  the  Opera 
to  the  Gymnase  Theatre,  finding  that  the  men  avoided  them, 
and  hurried  along  all  the  faster  in  the  increasing  obscurity,  Nana 
and  Satin  would  adjourn  to  the  Rue  du  Faubourg-Montmartre. 
There,  up  till  two  o'clock  in  the  morning,  the  lights  of  the  res- 
taurants, of  the  beer  saloons,  and  of  the  pork-butchers,  blazed 
away,  whilst  quite  a  swarm  of  women  hung  about  the  doors  of 
the  cafes;  it  was  the  last  bright  and  animated  corner  of  nocturnal 
Paris,  the  last  open  market  for  the  contracts  of  a  night,  where 
business  was  overtly  transacted  among  the  various  groups,  from 
one  end  of  the  street  to  the  other,  the  same  as  in  the  spacious  hall 
of  some  public  building.  And  on  the  nights  when  they  returned 
home  unsuccessful,  they  wrangled  with  each  other.  The  Rue 
Notre-Dame  de  Lorette  appeared  dark  and  deserted,  with  only 
the  occasional  shadow  of  some  woman  dragging  herself  along; 
it  was  the  tardy  return  of  the  poor  girls  of  the  neighbourhood, 
exasperated  by  an  evening  of  forced  idleness,  and  pertinaciously 
striving  for  better  luck  as  they  argued  in  a  hoarse  voice  with  some 
drunkard  who  had  lost  his  way,  and  whom  they  detained  at  the 
corner  of  the  Rue  Breda  or  the  Rue  Fontaine. 

However,  they  occasionally  had  some  very  good  windfalls  — 
louis  given  them  by  well-dressed  gentlemen,  who  put  their  decora- 
tions in  their  pockets  as  they  accompanied  them.  Satin  especially 
scented  them  from  afar.  On  wet  nights,  when  dank  Paris  emitted 
the  unsavoury  smell  of  a  vast  alcove  seldom  cleansed,  she  knew 
that  the  dampness  of  the  atmosphere,  the  fetidness  of  the  low 
haunts,  excited  the  men.  And  she  watched  for  those  that  were 
the  best  off;  she  could  see  it  in  their  pale  eyes.  It  was  like  a 


NANA 

stroke  of  carnal  madness  passing  over  the  city.    It  is  true  that 
she  was  at  times  rather  frightened,  for  she  knew  that  the  most 
gentlemanly-looking  men  were  generally  the  most  filthy-minded. 
All  the  polish  vanished  and  the  brute  appeared  beneath,  exacting 
in  his  monstrous  tastes  and  refined  in  his  perversion.    So  Satin, 
therefore,  had  no  respect  for  the  great  people  in  their  carriages, 
but  would  say  that  their  coachmen  were  far  nicer,  for  they  treated 
women  as  they  should  be  treated,  and  did  not  half  kill  them  with 
ideas  worthy  of  hell.    This  fall  of  well-to-do  people  into  the  crapu- 
lence of  vice  still  astonished  Nana,   who  had  reserved  certain   | 
prejudices  of  which  Satin  relieved  her.    When  seriously  discussing 
the  subject  she  would  ask,  Was  there,  then,  no  virtue?    From  the 
highest  to  the  lowest,  all  seemed  to  grovel  in  vice.    Well!  there  i 
were  some  pretty  doings  in  Paris  from  nine  in  the  evening  till 
three  in  the  morning;  and  then  she  would  laugh  aloud  and  exclaim  \^ 
that  if  one  were  only  able  to  look  into  all  the  rooms,  one  would    V 
witness  some  very  queer  things  —  the  lower  classes  going  in  for     ) 
a  regular  treat,  and  here  and  there  not  a  few  of  the  upper  classes 
poking  their  noses  even  more  than  the  others  into  the  beastly 
goings-on.    She  was  completing  her  education. 

One  night,  on  calling  for  Satin,  she  recognised  the  Marquis  de^ 
Chouard  coming  down  the  stairs,  leaning  heavily  on  the  balustrade, 
his  legs  yielding  beneath  him,  and  his  face  ghastly  pale.  She  took 
out  her  handkerchief  and  pretended  to  blow  her  nose;  then,  when 
she  found  Satin  surrounded  by  the  accustomed  filth,  the  room  not 
having  been  touched  for  more  than  a  week  past,  basins  and  other 
utensils  lying  about  on  all  sides,  the  bed  in  a  most  dirty  condition, 
she  expressed  her  astonishment  that  her  friend  should  know  the 
marquis.  Ah,  yes!  she  knew  him;  in  fact,  he  had  been  an  awful 
nuisance  when  she  and  her  pastrycook  were  living  together!  Now, 
he  came  from  time  to  time;  but  he  pestered  her  immensely.  He 
sniffed  about  in  every  dirty  place  he  could  find,  even  in  her  slippers. 

"Yes,  my  dear,  in  my  slippers.  Oh!  he's  a  filthy  beast!  He's 
always  wanting  things  — " 

What  most  troubled  Nana  was  the  sincerity  of  these  low  de- 
baucheries. She  recalled  to  mind  her  comedies  of  pleasure,  during 
the  days  of  her  fast  life;  whilst  she  saw  the  girls  about  her  losing 
their  health  at  it  day  by  day.  Then  Satin  frightened  her  terribly 
with  the  police.  She  was  full  of  stories  about  them.  Once  she 
used  to  keep  up  an  acquaintance  with  one  of  the  inspectors  of 


NANA 

public  morals,  so  as  to  insure  being  left  alone;  on  two  occasions 
he  had  prevented  her  name  from  being  entered  in  their  books, 
and  now  she  trembled,  for  she  knew  what  to  expect  if  they  caught 
her  a  third  time.  It  was  shocking  to  hear  her.  The  police  arrested 
as  many  women  as  they  possibly  could,  in  order  to  get  bribes, 
they  seized  all  they  came  across,  and  silenced  you  with  a  slap  in 
the  mouth  if  you  cried  out,  for  they  were  certain  of  being  upheld 
and  rewarded,  even  though  there  happened  to  be  a  respectable 
girl  among  the  number.  In  the  summer  they  would  start  off, 
twelve  or  fifteen  together,  and  make  a  round-up  on  the  Boulevards, 
surrounding  one  of  the  footpaths,  and  securing  as  many  as  thirty 
women  in  an  evening.  Satin,  however,  knew  their  favourite  spots. 
As  soon  as  ever  she  caught  a  glimpse  of  a  policeman,  away  she 
bolted,  amidst  the  wild  flight  of  the  long  trains,  through  the  crowd. 
There  was  a  dread  of  the  law,  a  terror  of  the  Prefecture  of  Police 
so  great  that  many  remained  as  though  paralysed  at  the  doors  of 
the  cafes,  in  spite  of  the  advancing  policemen,  who  swept  the 
road  before  them.  But  Satin  most  dreaded  being  informed  against; 
her  pastry  cook  had  been  mean  enough  to  threaten  to  denounce  her 
when  he  left  her.  Yes,  some  men  lived  on  their  mistresses  by 
those  means,  without  counting  the  dirty  women  who  would  be- 
tray you  through  jealousy,  if  you  were  better  looking  than  they. 

Nana  listened  to  all  these  stories  which  greatly  increased  her 
fears.  She  had  always  trembled  at  the  name  of  the  law  —  that 
unknown  power,  that  vengance  of  men  which  could  suppress  her, 
without  anyone  in  the  world  defending  her.  The  prison  of  Saint- 
Lazare  appeared  to  her  like  a  tomb,  an  enormous  black  hole,  in 
which  women  were  buried  alive,  after  having  had  their  hair  cut 
off.  She  would  say  to  herself  that  she  had  only  to  give  up  Fontan 
to  find  no  end  of  protectors;  and  Satin  might  tell  her  hundreds 
of  times  of  certain  lists  of  women,  accompanied  by  their  photo- 
graphs, that  the  policemen  had  to  consult,  and  be  careful  never 
to  interfere  with  the  originals.  She  was  nevertheless  dreadfully 
frightened,  she  was  always  seeing  herself  jostled  and  dragged 
off  to  be  inspected  on  the  morrow;  and  the  idea  of  the  inspection 
filled  her  with  agony  and  shame,  she  who  had  so  often  thrown  her 
chemise  over  the  house-tops. 

It  so  happened  that  one  night  towards  the  end  of  September, 
as  she  was  walking  with  Satin  along  the  Boulevard  Poissonniere,  the 

1:2323 


NANA 

latter  suddenly  started  off  at  full  gallop.  And  as  she  asked  her 
why  she  did  so : 

"The  police!"  panted  her  friend.    "Hurry  up!  hurry  up!" 

There  was  a  headlong  rush  through  the  crowd;  skirts  were  torn 
in  their  flight  —  there  were  blows  and  cries,  a  woman  fell  to  the 
ground.  The  mob  laughingly  looked  on  at  the  brutal  onslaught 
of  the  police,  who  rapidly  contracted  their  circle.  Nana,  however, 
had  soon  lost  sight  of  Satin.  She  felt  her  legs  failing  her;  she  was 
on  the  point  of  being  caught,  when  a  man,  taking  her  arm  in  his, 
led  her  off  in  the  face  of  the  infuriated  policemen.  It  was  Prul- 
liere,  who  had  just  at  that  moment  recognised  her.  Without 
speaking,  he  turned  with  her  down  the  Rue  Rougemont,  which 
was  almost  deserted,  where  she  was  able  to  take  breath;  but  she 
felt  so  faint,  that  he  had  to  support  her.  She  did  not  even  thank 
him. 

"Well,"  said  he  at  length,  "you  had  better  come  round  to  my 
place  and  rest  yourself  a  bit." 

He  lived  close  by,  in  the  Rue  Bergere.  But  she  pulled  herself 
together  at  once. 

"No,  I  won't." 

" But  everyone  does,"  he  roughly  resumed.    "Why  won't  you?" 

"Because—" 

To  her  mind  that  said  everything.  She  loved  Fontan  too  much 
to  deceive  him  with  a  friend.  The  others  did  not  count,  as  it 
was  from  necessity  and  not  pleasure  that  she  listened  to  them. 
In  the  face  of  such  stupid  obstinacy,  PruIIiere  behaved  with  the 
meanness  of  a  handsome  man  wounded  in  his  pride. 

"Well!  please  yourself,"  said  he.  "Only  I'm  not  going  your 
way,  my  dear.  Get  out  of  the  mess  by  yourself." 

And  he  walked  off.  All  her  fright  came  back  again;  she  re- 
turned to  Montmartre  by  a  most  roundabout  way,  keeping  close 
to  the  shops,  and  turning  pale  every  time  a  man  came  near  her. 

It  was  on  the  morrow  that  Nana,  still  feeling  the  shock  of  her 
terrors  of  the  night  before,  suddenly  found  herself  face  to  face 
with  Labordette,  in  a  quiet  little  street  at  BatignoIIes,  as  she  was 
on  her  way  to  her  aunt's.  At  first  they  both  seemed  rather  uneasy. 
He,  though  always  most  obliging,  had  some  business  which  he 
kept  to  himself.  However,  he  was  the  first  to  regain  his  composure, 
and  express  his  pleasure  at  the  meeting.  Really,  every  one  was 
still  amazed  at  Nana's  total  eclipse.  She  was  inquired  after 

£233:1 


NANA 

everywhere,  her  old  friends  were  all  pining  away.  And,  becoming 
paternal,  he  preached  her  a  little  sermon. 

"Now,  frankly,  my  dear,  between  ourselves,  you  are  making 
a  fool  of  yourself.  One  can  understand  a  bit  of  infatuation,  but 
not  being  reduced  to  the  point  you  are,  to  be  eaten  up  to  that 
extent  and  then  only  to  pocket  kicks  and  blows!  Are  you  going 
in  for  the  prize  of  virtue?" 

She  listened  to  him  in  an  embarrassed  manner.  But  when  he 
spoke  to  her  of  Rose,  who  was  triumphing  with  her  conquest  of 
Count  MufFat,  her  eyes  sparkled.  She  murmured: 

"Oh!  if  I  choose  — " 

He  at  once  offered  his  mediation,  in  his  obliging  way.  But 
she  refused.  Then,  he  attacked  her  on  another  subject.  He  told 
her  that  Bordenave  was  going  to  bring  out  a  new  piece  by  Fau- 
chery,  in  which  there  was  a  capital  part  that  would  suit  her 
splendidly. 

"What!  a  new  piece  with  a  part  that  would  suit  me!"  she 
exclaimed  in  amazement;  "but  he  is  in  it,  and  he  never  told  me!" 

She  did  not  name  Fontan.  Besides,  she  became  calm  again 
almost  directly.  She  would  never  return  to  the  stage.  No 
doubt  Labordette  was  not  convinced,  for  he  insisted  with  a  smile. 

"You  know  you  have  nothing  to  fear  with  me.  I  will  prepare 
Muffat,  you  will  return  to  the  theatre,  and  then  I  will  lead  him  to 
you  like  a  Iamb." 

"No!"  said  she  energetically. 

And  she  left  him.  Her  heroism  caused  her  to  bemoan  her  fate. 
A  cad  of  a  man  would  not  have  sacrificed  himself  like  that  with- 
out trumpeting  it  abroad.  Yet  one  thing  struck  her:  Labordette 
had  given  her  exactly  the  same  advice  as  Francis.  That  evening, 
when  Fontan  returned  home  she  questioned  him  about  Fauchery's 
piece.  He  had  been  back  at  the  Variety  Theatre  for  two  months 
past.  Why  had  he  not  told  her  about  the  part?" 

"What  part?"  asked  he  in  his  cross  voice.  "Do  you  happen  to 
mean  the  part  of  the  grand  lady?  Really  now,  do  you  then  think 
yourself  a  genius?  But,  my  girl,  you  could  no  more  play  that  part 
than  fly.  Upon  my  word,  you  make  me  laugh!" 

Her  feelings  were  dreadfully  hurt.  All  night  he  chaffed  her, 
calling  her  Mademoiselle  Mars.  And  the  more  he  ridiculed  her, 
the  more  she  stood  up  for  herself,  feeling  a  strange  pleasure  in 
that  heroic  defence  of  her  whim,  which,  in  her  own  eyes,  made 

C2343 


NANA 

her  appear  very  great  and  very  loving.  Ever  since  she  had  been 
consorting  with  other  men,  for  the  purpose  of  feeding  him,  she 
loved  him  the  more,  in  spite  of  all  the  fatigue  and  the  loathing 
which  this  existence  caused  her.  He  became  her  vice,  for  which 
she  paid,  and  which,  beneath  the  sting  of  the  blows,  she  could 
not  do  without.  He,  seeing  her  as  loving  and  obedient  as  an 
animal,  ended  by  abusing  his  power.  She  irritated  his  nerves. 
He  became  seized  with  a  ferocious  hatred  to  such  an  extent, 
that  he  lost  sight  altogether  of  his  own  interests.  Whenever 
Bosc  made  an  observation  on  the  subject,  he  exclaimed,  exas- 
perated without  any  one  knowing  why,  that  he  did  not  care  a 
curse  for  her  or  her  good  dinners,  and  that  he  would  turn  her 
out  of  the  place,  just  for  the  sake  of  spending  the  seven  thousand 
francs  on  another  woman.  And  that  was  indeed  the  end  of  their 
intimacy. 

One  night  Nana,  on  coming  home  about  eleven  o'clock,  found 
the  door  bolted  on  the  inside.  She  knocked  a  first  time,  no 
answer;  a  second  time,  still  no  answer.  Yet  she  could  see  a  light 
under  the  door,  and  Fontan  was  walking  about  inside.  She 
knocked  again  and  again  without  ceasing,  and  calling  to  him 
angrily.  At  length  Fontan  said  in  a  slow,  thick  voice: 

"Go  to  the  devil!" 

She  knocked  with  both  her  fists. 

"Go  to  the  devil!" 

She  knocked  louder,  almost  enough  to  break  the  panel. 

"Go  to  the  devil!" 

And  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour  the  same  words  answered  her 
like  a  jeering  echo  of  the  blows  she  hammered  on  the  door.  Then, 
seeing  that  she  did  not  tire,  he  suddenly  opened  it,  and  standing 
on  the  threshold,  with  his  arms  crossed,  said  in  the  same  cold 
brutal  tone  of  coice: 

"Damnation!  have  you  nearly  done?  What  is  it  you  want. 
You  had  better  let  us  go  to  sleep!  You  can  see  very  well  th^> 
I  am  not  alone."  ^ 

And  true  enough  he  was  not  alone.  Nana  caught  a  glimp<d 
of  the  little  woman  of  the  Bouffes  Theatre,  already  in  her  nigh?, 
dress,  with  her  curly  hair  that  looked  like  tow,  and  her  eyes  Iil,e 
gimlet  holes,  who  was  enjoying  the  fun  in  the  midst  of  the  furr^g 
ture  that  Nana  had  paid  for.  Fontan  stepped  out  on  to  the  landing 
looking  terrible,  and  opening  his  big  fingers  said:  \9 


NANA 

"Be  off,  or  I'll  strangle  you!" 

Then  Nana  burst  into  nervous  sobs.  She  was  frightened  and 
ran  off.  This  time  it  was  she  who  was  turned  out.  In  her  anger 
she  suddenly  thought  of  Muff  at,  and  of  how  she  had  treated  him; 
but  really  it  was  not  for  Fontan  to  avenge  him. 

Outside,  her  first  idea  was  to  go  and  sleep  with  Satin,  if  no 
one  else  was  with  her.  She  met  her  outside  her  house,  she  having 
been  also  chucked  out,  but  by  her  landlord,  who  had  put  a  pad- 
lock on  her  door,  against  all  legal  right,  as  the  furniture  was  hers. 
Satin  cursed  and  swore,  and  talked  of  having  him  up  before  the 
commissary  of  police.  However,  as  midnight  was  striking,  the 
first  thing  to  do  was  to  obtain  a  bed  somewhere.  And  Satin, 
thinking  it  best  not  to  make  the  policeman  acquainted  with  the 
state  of  her  affairs,  ended  by  taking  Nana  to  a  lady  who  kept  a 
licensed  lodging-house  in  the  Rue  de  Laval.  They  obtained  a 
small  back  room  on  the  first  floor  overlooking  the  courtyard. 

"  I  might  have  gone  to  Madame  Robert's,"  said  Satin.  "There 
is  always  room  there  for  me;  but  I  couldn't  have  taken  you. 
She's  becoming  most  ridiculously  jealous.  The  other  night  she 
beat  me." 

When  they  had  fastened  themselves  in,  Nana,  who  up  till 
then  had  not  unbosomed  herself,  burst  into  tears,  and  related 
again  and  again  the  dirty  trick  that  Fontan  had  played  her. 
She  listened  complaisantly,  consoled  her,  and  became  even  more 
indignant  than  she,  abusing  the  men  heartily. 

"Oh,  the  pigs!  oh,  the  pigs!    You  should  have  nothing  more 
2  to  do  with  such  pigs!" 

Then  she  helped  Nana  to  undress.    She  hovered  around  her 

;  ike  a  gentle  and  obliging  little  woman,  and  kept  saying,  coaxingly, 

.    "Let's  get  into  bed  quickly,  my  dear.      We  shall  be  much 

>K 3tter  there.    Ah!  how  silly  you  are  to  be  worried!    I  tell  you  that 

P3^  ey're  a  foul  set!    Don't  think  of  them  any  more.    You  know 

ove  you  very  much.    Now  leave  off  crying  —  do,  for  your  little 
meMing's  sake." 

y°uAnd  in  bed  she  at  once  took  Nana  in  her  arms,  so  as  to  calm 
'  gr.    She  would  not  hear  Fontan's  name  mentioned  again.    Each 

le  that  it  came  to  her  friend's  lips  she  stopped  it  with  a  kiss, 

'ittily  pouting  with  anger,  her  hair  all  loose,  and  looking  child- 
^  ly  beautiful,  and  full  of  tenderness.  Then,  little  by  little,  in 

s  sweet  embrace,  Nana  dried  her  tears.     She  was  touched; 


NANA 

she  returned  Satin's  caresses.  When  two  o'clock  struck  the  light 
was  still  burning.  Both  were  laughing  gently,  and  uttering  words 
of  love. 

But  suddenly  a  great  noise  was  heard  in  the  house.  Satin, 
half  naked,  jumped  out  of  bed  and  listened. 

"The  police!"  said  she,  pale  with  fear.  "Ah!  damn  it!  we've 
no  luck.  We're  done  for!" 

She  had  told  of  the  searches  the  policemen  made  in  the  hotels 
and  lodging-houses  fully  twenty  times,  and  yet,  when  they  went 
to  the  Rue  de  Laval  that  night  they  had  neither  of  them  given 
the  matter  a  thought.  At  the  word  police,  Nana  lost  her  wits 
entirely.  She  jumped  out  of  bed,  and,  running  across  the  room, 
opened  the  window,  with  the  wild  look  of  a  mad  woman  about  to 
jump  out.  But,  fortunately,  the  little  courtyard  was  covered  in 
with  glass,  and  over  this  was  a  wire  net-work  on  a  level  with  the 
window.  She  did  not  hesitate,  but,  stepping  on  to  the  sill,  dis- 
appeared in  the  darkness,  her  chemise  blowing  about  her,  and  her 
bare  legs  exposed  to  the  keen  night  air. 

"Stay  here,"  cried  Satin,  terrified.     "You  will  kill  yourself." 

Then,  as  they  were  knocking  at  the  door,  she  good-naturedly 
closed  the  window,  and  threw  her  friend's  clothes  into  the  bottom 
of  a  cupboard.  She  had  already  resigned  herself  to  her  fate, 
saying  to  herself  that  after  all,  if  they  did  put  her  on  their  list, 
she  would  no  more  have  occasion  for  that  stupid  fright.  She 
pretended  to  be  sound  asleep,  yawned,  parleyed,  and  ended  by 
opening  the  door  to  a  big  fellow  with  a  dirty  beard,  who  said: 

"Show  your  hands.  You've  no  needle  marks  on  your  fingers. 
You  don't  work.  Come,  dress  yourself." 

"But  I'm  not  a  needle-woman,  I'm  a  burnisher,"  declared 
Satin  boldly. 

But  all  the  same,  she  quietly  dressed  herself,  for  she  knew 
that  it  was  no  use  arguing.  Cries  were  heard  about  the  house. 
One  girl  held  on  to  the  door,  refusing  to  move.  Another,  who 
was  in  bed  with  her  lover,  and  for  whom  he  became  responsible, 
acted  the  part  of  the  grossly  insulted  respectable  woman,  and 
threatened  to  take  proceedings  against  the  Prefect  of  Police. 
For  nearly  an  hour  there  was  a  noise  of  heavy  boots  on  the 
stairs,  of  doors  shaken  by  violent  blows,  of  piercing  shrieks  ending 
in  sobs,  of  women's  skirts  grazing  the  walls  —  all  the  abrupt 
awakening  and  the  terrified  departure  of  a  flock  of  women, 


NANA 

brutally  collared  by  three  policemen,  under  the  charge  of  a  little, 
fair-haired,  and  very  polite  commissary  of  police.  Then  a  great 
silence  reigned  throughout  the  house. 

No  one  had  betrayed  her.  Nana  was  saved.  She  crept  back 
into  the  room,  shivering  and  almost  dead  with  fright.  Her  bare 
feet  were  bleeding  from  the  scratches  caused  by  the  wire.  For 
a  long  while  she  remained,  listening,  seated  on  the  edge  of  the 
bed.  Towards  morning,  however,  she  fell  asleep;  but  at  eight 
o'clock,  when  she  awoke,  she  quickly  left  the  house,  and  hastened 
to  her  aunt's.  When  Madame  Lerat,  who  happened  to  be  just 
taking  her  breakfast  with  Zoe,  saw  her  at  that  early  hour,  dressed 
in  such  a  slovenly  way,  and  with  a  scared  look  about  her  face, 
she  understood  it  at  once. 

"Ah!  and  so  it's  happened,  has  it?"  she  exclaimed.  "I  told 
you  he  would  even  want  the  skin  of  your  body.  Well,  come  in, 
you're  always  welcome  here." 

Zoe  had  risen,  and  murmured,  with  respectful  familiarity, 
"At  length  madame  is  restored  to  us.  I  was  expecting  madame." 

But  Madame  Lerat  wished  Nana  to  kiss  little  Louis  at  once, 
because,  said  she,  the  child's  happiness  consisted  in  his  mother's 
good  sense.  Little  Louis  was  still  sleeping,  looking  sickly  through 
lack  of  blood;  and  when  Nana  leant  over  his  white,  scrofulous 
face,  all  her  troubles  of  the  last  few  months  returned  to  her,  and 
seemed  to  stick  in  her  throat  and  almost  strangle  her. 

"Oh!  my  poor  little  one,  my  poor  little  one!"  she  stuttered, 
in  a  last  outburst  of  sobs. 


£2383 


CHAPTER  IX 

THEY  were  rehearsing  the  "Little  Duchess"  at  the  Variety 
Theatre.  The  first  act  had  just  been  gone  through,  and 
they  were  about  to  commence  the  second.  In  two  old  arm-" 
chairs  placed  close  to  the  footlights,  Fauchery  and  Bordenave  were 
arguing  together;  whilst  the  prompter,  old  Cossard,  a  little  hunch- 
back, was  seated  on  a  rush-bottomed  chair,  a  pencil  between  his 
lips,  turning  over  the  leaves  of  the  manuscript. 

"Well!  what  are  you  all  waiting  for?'*  suddenly  exclaimed 
Bordenave,  thumping  furiously  on  the  boards  with  his  heavy 
walking-stick.  "Barillot,  why  don't  you  begin?" 

"It's  M.  Bosc  —  he's  disappeared,"  replied  Barillot,  who  was 
acting  as  assistant  stage-manager. 

Then  there  was  quite  a  storm  of  shouts.  Every  one  called  Bosc. 
Bordenave  cursed  and  swore. 

"Damn  it  all!  it's  always  the  same.  One  may  ring  and  call 
-  they're  always  where  they  oughtn't  to  be;  and  then  they 
grumble  when  they're  kept  after  four  o'clock." 

Bosc,  however,  arrived  with  a  serene  coolness. 

"Eh?  what?  who  wants  me?  Ah!  it's  time  for  my  entrance! 
Then  why  didn't  you  say  so.  Good!  Simone,  give  me  my  cue, 
*  There  are  the  guests  arriving,'  and  I  enter.  How  am  I  to  enter?" 

"Why,  through  the  door,  of  course,"  shouted  Fauchery,  losing 
patience. 

"Yes,  but  where  is  the  door?" 

This  time  Bordenave  attacked  Barillot,  cursing  and  swearing 
again,  and  banging  his  stick  on  the  boards  sufficient  to  split  them. 

" Damn  it  all!  I  said  a  chair  was  to  be  placed  there  to  represent 
the  door.  Every  day  I  have  to  repeat  the  same  thing.  Barillot! 
where's  Barillot?  There's  another!  they  all  bolt  off!" 

Barillot,  however,  bowing  beneath  the  tempest,  came  and 
placed  the  chair  without  saying  a  word;  and  the  rehearsal  con- 
tinued. Simone,  with  her  bonnet  on,  and  enveloped  in  her  fur 

£2393 


NANA 

cloak,  assumed  the  airs  of  a  servant  arranging  some  furniture. 
She  interrupted  herself  to  say, 

"You  know,  I'm  not  very  warm,  so  I  shall  keep  my  hands  in 
my  muff."  Then  changing  her  voice,  she  greeted  Bosc  with  a 
faint  cry,  and  said,  "Why!  it's  the  count.  You  are  the  first,  sir, 
and  madame  will  be  very  pleased." 

Bosc  had  on  a  muddy  pair  of  trousers,  a  big  drab  overcoat, 
and  an  immense  muffler  rolled  round  his  neck.  With  his  hands 
in  his  pockets,  and  an  old  hat  on  his  head,  he  said  in  a  hollow 
voice,  without  any  acting  but  merely  dragging  himself  along, 

"Do  not  disturb  your  mistress,  Isabella;  I  wish  to  give  her  a 
surprise." 

The  rehearsal  went  on.  Bordenave,  scowling,  and  buried  in 
his  arm-chair,  listened  with  an  air  of  fatigue.  Fauchery,  nervous 
and  constantly  changing  his  position,  was  seized  every  minute 
with  a  desire  to  interrupt,  "which,  however,  he  repressed.  But 
he  heard  whispering  behind  him  in  the  dark  and  empty  house. 

"Is  she  there?"  he  asked,  leaning  towards  Bordenave. 

The  latter  nodded  his  head.  Before  accepting  the  part  of 
Geraldine  which  he  had  offered  her,  Nana  had  wished  to  see  the 
piece;  for  she  hesitated  before  agreeing  to  act  the  part  of  a  gay 
woman.  What  she  longed  for  was  to  appear  on  the  stage  as  a 
lady.  She  was  half  hidden  in  the  shadow  of  a  box  with  Labordette, 
who  was  exerting  himself  with  Bordenave  for  her.  Fauchery 
glanced  round  at  her,  and  then  again  gave  all  his  attention  to  the 
rehearsal. 

Only  the  front  of  the  stage  was  lighted  up.  A  large  jet  of  gas 
issuing  from  a  pipe  erected  at  the  junction  of  the  footlights,  and 
the  glare  of  which  was  disseminated  by  means  of  a  powerful 
reflector,  looked  like  a  great  yellow  eye  in  the  semi-obscurity, 
where  it  blazed  with  a  sort  of  dubious  sadness.  Against  the 
slender  gas-pipe  stood  Cossard,  holding  up  the  manuscript  close 
to  the  light,  which  vividly  exposed  the  outline  of  his  hump. 
Then  more  in  the  shadow  were  Fauchery  and  Bordenave.  In 
the  midst  of  the  enormous  structure,  this  light,  which  illumined 
the  distance  of  a  few  yards  only,  looked  like  the  glimmer  of  a 
lantern  fixed  to  a  post  at  some  railway  station,  the  actors  appear- 
ing like  so  many  strange  phantoms,  with  their  shadows  dancing 
before  them.  The  rest  of  the  stage,  full  of  a  kind  of  fine  dust 
similar  to  that  which  hangs  about  houses  .in  the  course  of  de- 
ll 240  J 


NANA 

molition,  resembled  a  gigantic  nave  undergoing  repair,  with  its 
ladders,  its  frame-works,  and  its  side-scenes,  the  faded  paint  on 
which  imitated  heaps  of  rubbish;  and  the  drop-scenes  suspended 
up  aloft  had  an  appearance  of  frippery  hanging  to  the  beams 
of  some  vast  rag  warehouse,  whilst  a  ray  of  sunshine,  which  had 
penetrated  through  some  window,  intersected  the  darkness  above 
like  a  bar  of  gold. 

At  the  back  of  the  stage  some  of  the  actors  were  conversing 
together  while  waiting  for  their  cues.  They  had  gradually  raised 
their  voices. 

"I  say  there!  will  you  keep  quiet?"  yelled  Bordenave,  who 
sprung  from  his  chair  in  a  rage.  "I  can't  hear  a  word.  Go 
outside  if  you  want  to  talk;  we're  working.  Barillot,  if  any  one 
talks  again,  I'll  fine  the  whole  lot!'* 

They  held  their  tongues  for  a  short  time.  They  formed  a  little 
group,  seated  on  a  bench  and  some  rustic  chairs  in  a  bit  of  a 
garden  —  the  first  scene  for  the  evening  which  was  placed  there, 
ready  to  be  fixed.  Fontan  and  PruIIiere  were  listening  to  Rose 
Mignon,  who  had  just  received  a  splendid  offer  from  the  manager 
of  the  Folies-Dramatiques  Theatre.  But  a  voice  called  out, 

"The  duchess!  Saint- Firmin!  Now  then,  the  duchess  and 
Saint-Firmin!" 

PruIIiere  did  not  recollect  till  the  second  call  that  he  was  Saint- 
Firmin.  Rose,  who  played  the  part  of  the  Duchess  Helene,  was 
waiting  for  him  to  make  their  entrance.  Slowly  dragging  his  feet 
over  the  vacant,  sonorous  boards,  old  Bosc  returned  to  sit  down. 
Then  Clarisse  offered  him  half  the  bench. 

"What  does  he  yell  about  like  that  for?"  asked  she,  speaking 
of  Bordenave.  "It  will  be  getting  unbearable  soon.  He  can't 
bring  out  a  new  piece  now  without  giving  vent  to  his  feelings  in 
that  way. 

Bosc  shrugged  his  shoulders;  he  was  above  all  those  shindies. 
Fontan  whispered: 

"He  smells  a  failure.  I  think  it's  a  most  idiotic  piece."  Then, 
returning  to  Rose's  story,  he  said  to  Clarisse,  "Do  you  believe  it, 
eh?  Three  hundred  francs  a  night,  and  a  hundred  performances 
guaranteed.  Why  not  a  country  house  into  the  bargain?  If  his 
wife  was  offered  three  hundred  francs,  Mignon  would  chuck  up 
Bordenave,  and  without  warning  too!" 

Clarisse  believed  in  the  truth  of  the  offer.    Fontan  was  always 

C24O 


NANA 

running  his  comrades  down!  But  Simone  interrupted  them. 
She  was  shivering.  All  well  buttoned  up  and  with  scarves  round 
their  necks,  looked  up  at  the  sunbeam  which  shone  without 
descending  into  the  mournful  coldness  that  hung  about  the  stage. 
Outside  it  was  freezing  beneath  a  clear  November  sky. 

"And  there's  no  fire  in  the  green-room!"  said  Simone.  "It's 
disgusting;  he's  becoming  beastly  miserly!  I've  a  good  mind  to 
go  home,  I  don't  want  to  be  ill." 

"Silence  there!"  cried  Bordenave  again,  in  a  voice  of  thunder. 

Then  for  a  few  minutes  nothing  was  heard  but  the  confused 
voices  of  the  actors.  They  scarcely  indicated  the  gestures,  and 
spoke  in  a  quiet  voice  so  as  not  to  tire  themselves.  However, 
when  they  intended  to  score  a  point,  they  glanced  at  the  audi- 
torium. It  appeared  to  them  like  an  enormous  hole  in  which 
floated  a  vague  shadow,  similar  to  a  fine  dust  confined  in  a  big 
loft  without  windows.  The  house,  which  was  in  darkness  except 
for  the  feeble  light  transmitted  from  the  stage,  seemed  wrapped 
in  a  troubled  and  melancholy  sleep.  The  paintings  on  the  ceiling 
were  veiled  in  obscurity.  From  the  top  to  the  bottom  of  the 
stage-boxes,  on  the  right  and  left,  hung  immense  breadths  of 
coarse  grey  linen  to  protect  the  hangings;  and  strips  of  the  same 
material  were  thrown  over  the  velvet  of  the  balustrades,  girdling 
the  balconies  with  a  double  winding-sheet,  staining,  as  it  were, 
the  gloom  with  their  pale  tint.  In  the  general  discolouration  one 
could  only  distinguish  the  darker  recesses  of  the  boxes,  which 
indicated  the  different  storeys,  and  the  breaks  caused  by  the  seats, 
the  red  velvet  of  which  had  a  blackish  look.  The  great  crystal 
gasalier,  lowered  almost  to  the  ground,  filled  the  stalls  with  its 
pendants,  and  gave  one  the  idea  of  a  removal,  of  a  departure  of 
the  public  on  a  journey  from  which  it  would  never  return. 

Rose,  in  her  part  of  the  little  duchess  lost  at  the  house  of  some 
fast  woman,  just  then  advanced  towards  the  footlights.  She 
raised  her  hands  and  pouted  adorably  to  that  dark,  empty  house, 
which  was  as  sad  as  though  it  were  in  mourning. 

"Good  heavens!  what  curious  people!"  said  she,  accentuating 
the  phrase,  certain  of  the  effect. 

At  the  back  of  the  box  in  which  she  was  seated,  Nana,  wrapped 
in  a  large  shawl,  was  listening  to  the  piece  and  devouring  Rose 
with  her  eyes.  She  turned  to  Labordette  and  asked  him  in  a  low 
voice, 

£2423 


NANA 

"You're  sure  he's  coming?" 

"Quite  sure.  No  doubt  he  will  come  with  Mignon,  as  a  pretext. 
As  soon  as  he  arrives  you  must  go  up  into  Mathilde's  dressing- 
room,  and  I  will  bring  him  there  to  you." 

They  were  talking  of  Count  MufFat.  It  was  an  interview  on 
neutral  ground,  arranged  by  Labordette.  He  had  had  a  serious 
talk  with  Bordenave,  whom  two  successive  failures  had  brought 
to  a  very  low  ebb.  And  Bordenave  had  hastened  to  lend  his 
theatre  and  offer  a  part  to  Nana,  wishing  to  get  on  good  terms 
with  the  count,  with  the  view  of  borrowing  some  money  of  him. 

"And  the  part  of  Geraldine,  what  do  you  think  of  it?"  resumed 
Labordette. 

But  Nana  neither  answered  nor  moved.  After  the  first  act, 
in  which  the  author  made  the  Duke  de  Beaurivage  deceive  his 
wife  with  the  fair  Geraldine,  an  operatic  star,  came  the  second 
act,  where  the  Duchess  Helene  went  to  the  actress's  on  the  night 
of  a  masked  ball,  to  learn  by  what  magic  power  such  creatures 
conquered  and  retained  the  husbands  of  better  women.  It  was 
a  cousin,  the  handsome  Oscar  de  Saint-Firmin,  who  introduced 
her  there,  hoping  to  seduce  her.  And,  to  her  great  surprise,  as 
a  first  lesson  she  heard  Geraldine  abusing  the  duke  in  the  language 
of  a  navvie,  whilst  the  latter  seemed  to  be  delighted;  this  sight 
drew  from  her  the  cry,  "Ah,  well!  if  that's  the  way  the  men  must 
be  spoken  to!"  This  was  about  the  only  scene  Geraldine  had  in 
the  act.  As  for  the  duchess,  she  was  soon  punished  for  her  curi- 
osity. An  old  beau,  the  Baron  de  Tardiveau,  took  her  for  one  of 
the  gay  women  and  attacked  her  vigorously,  whilst,  on  the  other 
side,  Beaurivage  made  it  up  with  Geraldine,  who  was  reclining  in  an 
easy  chair,  and  kissed  her.  As  the  part  of  the  latter  was  not 
filled  up,  old  Cossard  had  risen  to  read  it,  and  he  accentuated 
certain  passages  in  spite  of  himself,  and  acted  in  Bosc's  arms. 
They  had  reached  this  scene,  the  rehearsal  dragged  on  tediously, 
when  suddenly  Fauchery  jumped  up  from  his  chair.  He  had 
restrained  himself  till  then,  but  his  nerves  had  at  length  got  the 
better  of  him. 

"That  isn't  it!"  he  exclaimed. 

The  actors  paused,  their  arms  dangling  beside  them.  Fontan, 
screwing  up  his  nose,  asked  in  a  sneering  way: 

"What?  What  isn't  it?" 

"  You're  all  wrong !  it's  not  that  at  all,  not  that  at  all  I "   resumed 

C2433 


NANA 

Fauchery,  who  marched  about  the  stage  gesticulating,  and  went 
through  the  scene.  "Look  here,  Fontan,  you  must  understand 
Tardiveau's  excitement;  you  lean  forward  like  this,  with  this 
gesture,  to  seize  hold  of  the  duchess.  And  you,  Rose,  it's  then 
that  you  pass,  quickly,  like  this,  but  not  too  soon,  not  till  you 
hear  the  kiss  — "  He  interrupted  himself,  and  called  to  Cossard, 
in  the  heat  of  his  explanations:  "Geraldine,  give  the  kiss - 
loud!  so  that  it  can  be  well  heard!" 

Old  Cossard  turned  towards  Bosc,  and  smacked  his  lips 
vigorously. 

"Good!  that's  the  kiss,"  said  Fauchery  jubilantly.  "Give  the 
kiss  once  more.  Now  you  see,  Rose,  I've  had  time  to  pass,  and 
then  I  utter  a  faint  cry  — 'Ah!  she  has  kissed  him!'  But,  for  that, 
Tardiveau  must  follow  you  towards  the  back  of  the  stage.  Do 
you  hear,  Fontan?  you  must  follow  her  to  the  back  of  the  stage. 
Now,  try  it  over  again,  and  all  together!" 

The  actors  went  through  the  scene  a  second  time,  but  Fontan 
played  his  part  with  such  ill-will,  that  it  was  worse  than  ever. 
Twice  again  Fauchery  gave  his  directions,  acting  the  mimic  each 
time  with  more  warmth.  They  all  listened  to  him  in  a  mournful 
way,  looked  at  one  another  for  an  instant,  as  though  he  had 
asked  them  to  walk  on  their  heads,  and  then  awkwardly  tried 
again,  to  stop  almost  directly  with  the  rigidity  of  puppets  whose 
strings  have  just  been  broken. 

"No,  it's  too  much  for  me;  I  can't  understand  it,"  Fontan 
ended  by  saying  in  his  insolent  tone  of  voice. 

During  all  this  while,  Bordenave  had  not  opened  his  lips. 
Buried  in  the  depths  of  his  arm-chair,  one  could  only  see  by  the 
pale  light  of  the  gas-jet  the  top  of  his  hat,  which  he  had  pulled 
over  his  eyes,  and  his  immense  stomach,  in  front  of  which  was 
his  walking-stick,  abandoned  between  his  legs;  and  one  would 
have  thought  him  asleep.  Suddenly  he  rose  up. 

"My  young  friend,  it's  absurd,"  said  he  to  Fauchery,  in  a 
quiet  tone  of  voice. 

"How!  absurd!"  exclaimed  the  author,  turning  very  pale. 
"You  are  absurd  yourself,  my  boy!" 

Bordenave  at  once  flew  into  a  passion.  He  repeated  the  word 
absurd,  and  seeking  for  something  stronger,  substituted  imbecile 
and  idiotic.  It  would  be  hissed,  they  would  never  be  allowed 
to  finish  the  act;  and  as  Fauchery,  exasperated  though  not 

[244] 


NANA 

particularly  offended  by  his  abuse,  which  occurred  each  time  they 
rehearsed  a  new  piece  together,  roundly  called  him  a  brute, 
Bordenave  lost  all  control  over  himself.  He  twirled  his  stick  in 
his  hand,  and  breathing  like  a  mad  bull,  exclaimed: 

"Damnation!  go  to  the  deuce.  There's  another  quarter  of 
an  hour  wasted  in  stupidity  —  yes,  stupidity.  There's  not  the 
least  particle  of  common  sense  in  it.  And  yet  it's  so  simple! 
You,  Fontan,  you're  not  to  budge.  You,  Rose,  you  make  a  little 
movement  like  this,  you  know,  but  no  more,  and  then  you  come 
forward.  Now  try  it  that  way,  off  you  go;  Cossard,  give  the 
kiss. " 

The  scene  went  no  better.  The  confusion  became  greater. 
Then  Bordenave  also  began  to  mimic  with  the  gracefulness  of 
an  elephant,  whilst  Fauchery  stood  by  sneering  and  shrugging 
his  shoulders,  in  a  pitying  sort  of  way.  Then  Fontan  mixed 
himself  up  in  it,  and  even  Bosc  ventured  to  give  his  advice. 
Rose,  quite  tired  out,  had  finished  by  sitting  down  on  the  chair 
which  indicated  the  door.  No  one  any  longer  knew  what  they 
were  about.  To  crown  the  confusion,  Simone,  thinking  she 
heard  her  cue,  made  her  entrance  too  soon,  in  the  midst  of  the 
disorder.  This  so  enraged  Bordenave,  that  whirling  his  stick 
round  in  a  terrible  manner,  it  alighted  with  great  force  on  her 
posterior.  He  often  struck  the  women,  who  had  been  his  mis- 
tresses, during  rehearsals.  She  rushed  off,  pursued  by  this  furious 
cry: 

"Take  that  home  with  you,  and  damn  it  all!  I'll  shut  up  the 
show  if  I'm  bothered  any  more!" 

Fauchery  had  pressed  his  hat  down  on  his  head,  and  pretended 
to  leave  the  theatre;  but  he  remained  standing  at  the  back  of 
the  stage,  and  came  forward  again  when  he  saw  Bordenave 
return  to  his  arm-chair  in  a  frightful  state  of  perspiration.  He 
resumed  his  own  seat.  They  remained  a  short  time  side  by  side, 
without  stirring,  whilst  complete  silence  reigned  throughout  the 
house.  The  actors  waited  nearly  two  minutes.  They  all  seemed 
to  be  in  a  state  of  the  greatest  dejection,  as  though  they  had  just 
gone  through  a  most  fatiguing  task. 

"Well!  continue,"  said  Bordenave  at  length  in  his  ordinary 
tone  of  voice,  and  perfectly  calm. 

"Yes,  continue,"  repeated  Fauchery.  "We  will  arrange  the 
scene  to-morrow." 

[245] 


NANA 

And  they  stretched  themselves  out,  and  the  rehearsal  resumed 
its  course  of  tediousness  and  supreme  indifference.  During  the 
row  between  the  manager  and  the  author,  Fontan  and  the  others 
had  had  a  most  enjoyable  time  at  the  back,  seated  on  the  bench 
and  the  rustic  chairs.  They  had  laughed  quietly  among  them- 
selves, with  numerous  grunts  and  witty  remarks;  but  when 
Simone  returned  with  her  whack  behind,  and  her  voice  broken 
by  sobs,  they  went  in  for  tragedy,  saying  that  in  her  place  they 
would  have  strangled  the  old  pig.  She  wiped  her  eyes,  nodding 
her  head  the  while.  It  was  all  over;  she  would  leave  him,  more 
especially  as  Steiner,  the  day  before,  had  offered  to  provide  for 
her.  Clarisse  was  lost  in  astonishment  —  the  banker  was  without 
a  sou;  but  PruIIiere  laughed  and  reminded  her  of  how  the  con- 
founded Jew  had  advertised  himself  by  means  of  Rose,  when  he 
had  been  working  the  shares  of  the  Salt  Works  of  the  Landes. 
Just  then  he  had  another  project  —  a  tunnel  under  the  Bosphorus. 
Simone  listened  very  much  interested.  As  for  Clarisse,  she  had 
been  in  an  awful  rage  for  a  week  past.  That  beast  La  Faloise, 
whom  she  had  flung  into  Gaga's  venerable  arms,  had  just  inherited 
the  property  of  a  very  rich  uncle!  She  had  no  luck;  she  was 
always  warming  the  house  for  the  next  tenant.  Then  that  brute 
Bordenave  had  only  given  her  a  wretched  part  of  fifty  lines,  when 
she  could  very  well  have  played  Geraldine !  She  was  longing  for 
the  part,  and  had  great  hopes  that  Nana  would  refuse  it. 

"Well!  and  I?"  said  PruIIiere  indignantly;  "I  haven't  two 
hundred  lines.  I  wished  to  decline  the  part.  It's  an  insult  to 
ask  me  to  play  that  Saint- Firmin;  it's  as  bad  as  being  shelved. 
And  what  a  piece,  my  friends!  You  know,  it'll  be  an  awful 
fiasco." 

Here  Simone,  who  had  been  talking  with  old  Barillot,  returned 
and  said,  all  out  of  breath,  "I  say,  Nana's  here!" 

"Whereabouts?"  asked  Clarisse,  rising  quickly  from  her  seat 
to  see. 

The  news  passed  rapidly  from  one  to  the  other.  Every  one 
leant  forward  to  have  a  look.  For  an  instant  the  rehearsal  was 
interrupted;  but  Bordenave  suddenly  roused  himself,  and  yelled, 

"Well!  what's  the  matter?  Finish  the  act,  can't  you?  And 
keep  quiet  you  over  there;  the  row  you  kick  up  is  intolerable!" 

Nana  was  still  watching  the  piece  from  her  box.  Labordette 
had  twice  addressed  her;  but  she  had  impatiently  pushed  him 

£246:1 


NANA 

with  her  elbow  to  make  him  leave  off.  The  second  act  was  just 
about  ending,  when  two  figures  appeared  at  the  back  of  the 
stage.  As  they  walked  down  to  the  front,  on  the  tips  of  their 
toes,  so  as  not  to  make  any  noise,  Nana  recognised  Mignon  and 
Count  MufFat,  who  nodded  in  silence  to  Bordenave. 

"Ah!  there  they  are,"  murmured  she  with  a  sigh  of  relief. 

Rose  Mignon  gave  the  last  cue.  Then  Bordenave  said  that 
they  must  go  through  the  second  act  again,  before  touching  the 
third  one;  and,  leaving  the  rehearsal,  he  greeted  the  count  with 
most  exaggerated  politeness,  whilst  Fauchery  pretended  to  be 
wholly  engaged  with  the  actors  around  him.  Mignon  whistled 
quietly  to  himself,  with  his  hands  behind  his  back,  and  looking 
tenderly  at  his  wife,  who  seemed  rather  nervous. 

"Well!  shall  we  go  up?"  asked  Labordette  of  Nana.  "I  will 
make  you  comfortable  in  the  room,  and  then  come  back  for  him." 

Nana  left  the  box  at  once.  She  had  to  feel  her  way  along  the 
passage  which  led  to  the  boxes  and  stalls;  but  Bordenave  guessed 
she  was  there,  as  she  was  hurrying  along  in  the  dark,  and  he 
caught  her  up  at  the  end  of  the  corridor  which  passed  behind  the 
stage  —  a  narrow  place  where  the  gas  was  kept  burning  night 
and  day.  There,  so  as  to  get  the  matter  settled  quickly,  he  at 
once  attacked  her  about  the  part  of  Geraldine. 

"Eh!  what  a  part!  what  go  there  is  in  it!  It  is  exactly  suited 
to  you.  Come  to-morrow  to  rehearsal." 

Nana  kept  very  cool.    She  wished  to  see  the  third  act. 

"Oh!  the  third  act  is  superb!  The  duchess  plays  at  being  a 
fast  woman  in  her  own  home,  which  disgusts  Beaurivage  and 
gives  him  a  lesson.  And  then  there's  a  very  funny  imbroglio. 
Tardiveau  arrives,  and  thinking  he  is  at  some  dancer's  - 

"And  what  does  Geraldine  do  in  all  that?"  interrupted  Nana. 

"Geraldine?"  repeated  Bordenave  slightly  embarrassed.  "She 
has  a  scene,  not  very  long,  but  a  capital  one.  The  part  is  a  splendid 
one  for  you,  I  tell  you!  Come  and  sign  an  agreement  now." 

For  a  few  seconds  she  looked  him  straight  in  the  face,  and  then 
replied,  "We'll  talk  it  over  by-and-by." 

And  she  joined  Labordette,  who  was  waiting  for  her  on  the 
stairs.  Every  one  in  the  theatre  had  recognised  her.  They 
were  all  whispering  together.  Her  return  quite  scandalised 
PruIIiere,  and  Clarisse  was  very  uneasy  about  the  part  she  was 
longing  for.  As  for  Fontan,  he  pretended  supreme  indifference. 


NANA 

It  was  not  for  him  to  abuse  a  woman  he  had  loved.  In  his  heart 
—  in  his  old  infatuation  now  turned  to  hatred  —  he  entertained 
a  ferocious  grudge  against  her  on  account  of  her  devotion  to  him, 
of  her  beauty,  and  of  that  dual  existence  which  he  had  severed 
through  the  perversion  of  his  monster-like  inclinations. 

However,  when  Labordette  returned  and  went  up  to  the  count, 
Rose  Mignon,  already  put  on  her  guard  from  the  knowledge  of 
Nana's  presence,  suddenly  understood  what  was  going  on.  Muffat 
bored  her  immensely;  but  the  thought  of  being  thrown  over  in 
that  fashion  was  too  much  for  her.  She  broke  the  silence  she  usually 
maintained  with  her  husband  on  those  matters,  and  said  to  him 
bluntly, 

"You  see  what  is  going  on?  Well!  I  give  you  my  word  that 
if  she  tries  on  the  Steiner  dodge  again,  I  will  scratch  her  eyes 
out!" 

Mignon,  calm  and  serene,  shrugged  his  shoulders  with  the  air 
of  a  man  who  sees  everything. 

"Be  quiet,  will  you!"  he  murmured.  "Just  oblige  me  by  hold- 
ing your  tongue!" 

He  knew  what  he  was  about.  He  had  got  pretty  well  all  he 
could  out  of  Muffat.  He  felt  that  on  a  sign  from  Nana  the  count 
was  ready  to  lie  down  and  be  her  footstool.  It  was  impossible 
to  fight  with  such  a  passion  as  his;  and  so,  knowing  what  men  are, 
his  only  thought  was  to  get  the  most  he  could  out  of  the  situation. 
He  must  wait  and  see  how  things  went.  And  he  waited. 

"Rose,  it's  your  scene!"  cried  Bordenave.  "The  second  act 
over  again." 

"Go!"  resumed  Mignon.    "Leave  me  to  manage  this." 

Then  in  his  bantering  way  he  amused  himself  by  compliment- 
ing Fauchery  on  his  piece.  It  was  a  capital  play,  only  why  was 
his  grand  lady  so  extremely  virtuous?  It  was  not  natural.  And 
he  jeeringly  asked  who  was  the  original  of  the  Duke  de  Beaurivage 
-  the  fool  whom  Geraldine  did  what  she  liked  with.  Fauchery, 
far  from  being  annoyed,  began  to  smile;  but  Bordenave,  glancing 
in  the  direction  of  MufFat,  seemed  annoyed,  and  that  made  Mignon 
serious  again,  and  set  him  thinking. 

"Damn  it  all!  are  we  ever  going  to  begin?"  yelled  the  manager. 
"Look  sharp,  Barillot!  Eh?  Bosc  isn't  there?  Does  he  think 
he's  going  to  make  a  fool  of  me  any  longer?" 

But  at  that  moment  Bosc  quietly  appeared  and  took  his  place. 

£248:1 


NANA 

The  rehearsal  recommenced  just  as  Labordette  went  off  with  the 
count.  The  latter  trembled  at  the  thought  of  seeing  Nana  again. 
After  their  rupture  he  had  felt  himself  alone  in  the  world,  he  had 
allowed  himself  to  be  led  to  Rose,  not  knowing  how  to  employ 
his  time,  and  thinking  he  was  merely  suffering  from  the  alteration 
in  his  habits.  Besides,  in  the  state  of  stupor  in  which  he  then  was, 
he  wished  to  be  ignorant  of  everything,  forbidding  himself  to 
seek  Nana,  and  avoiding  an  explanation  with  the  countess.  It 
seemed  to  him  that  he  owed  that  oblivion  to  his  dignity.  But 
there  was  a  secret  power  at  work,  and  Nana  slowly  reconquered 
him  by  his  recollections,  by  the  weaknesses  of  his  flesh,  and  by 
new  feelings,  exclusive,  tender,  and  almost  paternal.  The  abomin- 
able scene  in  which  he  had  taken  part  was  forgotten;  he  no  longer 
beheld  Fontan,  he  no  longer  heard  Nana  ordering  him  out  as  she 
twitted  him  with  his  wife's  adultery.  They  were  mere  words 
which  passed  by  as  soon  as  they  were  uttered,  whilst  in  his  heart 
there  remained  a  sting  the  pangs  of  which  almost  suffocated  him. 
His  thoughts  at  times  became  quite  childish,  he  accused  himself, 
imagining  that  she  would  not  have  deceived  him  had  he  really 
loved  her.  His  agony  became  intolerable,  and  he  was  most  un- 
happy. It  was  like  the  smart  of  an  old  wound,  no  longer  that 
blind  and  impatient  desire  putting  up  with  anything,  but  a 
jealous  love  of  that  woman,  a  need  of  her  alone,  of  her  hair,  of 
her  mouth,  of  her  body,  that  haunted  him.  Whenever  he  recalled 
the  sound  of  her  voice  a  tremor  ran  through  his  limbs.  He  longed 
for  her  with  the  exigencies  of  a  miser  and  infinite  delicacy.  And 
this  love  had  seized  upon  him  so  grievously,  that,  at  the  first 
words  Labordette  uttered  when  sounding  him  respecting  an  in- 
terview, he  threw  himself  into  his  arms  by  an  irresistible  move- 
ment, ashamed  afterwards  of  having  given  way  in  a  manner  so 
ridiculous  for  a  man  of  his  rank.  But  Labordette  knew  how  to 
see  and  forget.  He  gave  another  proof  of  his  tact  in  leaving  the 
count  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs,  with  these  simple  words  quickly 
uttered : 

"On  the  second  floor,  turn  to  the  right,  the  door  is  only  pushed 
to." 

Muffat  found  himself  alone  in  this  silent  corner  of  the  building. 
As  he  passed  by  the  green-room  he  noticed,  through  the  open 
doors,  the  dilapidation  of  the  vast  apartment,  which,  in  the  day- 
light, appeared  in  a  disgraceful  state  through  dirt  and  constant 

£249] 


NANA 

wear  and  tear.  But  what  surprised  him,  on  his  leaving  the  noise 
and  semi-obscurity  of  the  stage,  were  the  bright  clear  light,  the  in- 
tense quietude  of  that  staircase,  which  he  had  seen  one  night 
smoky  with  gas  and  sonorous  with  the  rush  of  women  skurrying 
about  from  floor  to  floor.  One  could  tell  the  dressing-rooms  were 
unoccupied,  the  passages  deserted,  for  there  was  not  a  soul,  not 
a  sound,  whilst  through  the  small  square  windows,  on  a  level 
with  the  stairs,  entered  the  pale  November  sun,  in  the  yellow  rays 
of  which  an  infinitesimal  dust  disported  itself,  whilst  a  death- 
like peacefulness  hung  over  all.  He  felt  happy  in  this  silence  and 
calm.  He  mounted  the  stairs  slowly,  trying  not  to  get  out  of 
breath;  his  heart  bounded  against  his  breast,  and  he  was  seized 
with  the  fear  of  acting  like  a  child,  with  sighs  and  tears.  Then, 
when  he  reached  the  first  landing,  he  leant  against  the  wall,  certain 
of  not  being  seen,  and,  holding  his  handkerchief  to  his  mouth, 
he  looked  at  the  warped  steps,  at  the  iron  hand-rail  shining  from 
the  constant  friction,  at  the  soiled  walls,  at  all  that  wretchedness 
which  gave  the  place  the  look  of  some  low  brothel  displayed  in 
all  its  bareness  at  that  drowsy  hour  of  the  afternoon  when  the 
girls  are  sleeping.  When  he  arrived  at  the  second  landing  he  had 
to  step  over  a  big  tortoise-shell  cat  curled  up  asleep  on  the  top 
stair.  With  its  eyes  half  closed,  this  cat  watched  all  alone  over 
the  house,  always  in  a -state  of  somnolency  from  the  cool  and 
stuffy  odours  left  behind  there  every  night  by  the  women. 

In  the  passage  on  the  right,  the  door  of  the  dressing-room  was, 
as  Labordette  had  said,  only  pushed  to.  Nana  was  waiting  there. 
That  little  slut  of  a  Mathilde  kept  her  dressing-room  in  a  slovenly 
state;  there  were  cracked  pots  scattered  all  about,  a  dirty  wash- 
hand  basin,  and  a  chair  stained  with  rouge,  as  though  some  one 
had  been  bleeding  on  the  rush  seat.  The  paper  which  covered 
the  walls  and  the  ceiling  was  splashed  all  over  with  soapy  water. 
There  was  such  a  stench  there,  such  a  smell  of  lavender  turned 
musty,  that  Nana  opened  the  window.  She  stood  there  for  a 
minute,  breathing  the  fresh  air,  and  leaning  out  to  catch  a  glimpse 
of  Madame  Bron,  whom  she  heard  vigorously  sweeping  the  green 
flagstones  on  the  shady  side  of  the  narrow  courtyard.  A  canary, 
in  a  cage  hung  up  against  a  shutter,  was  uttering  some  piercing 
roulades.  One  could  not  hear  the  sounds  of  the  vehicles  on  the 
Boulevard  or  in  the  neighbouring  streets,  all  was  as  peaceful  as 
in  the  country,  though  the  sun  but  seldom  penetrated  there.  On 


NANA 

raising  her  eyes,  Nana  saw  the  little  buildings  and  the  shining 
glass  roofs  of  the  galleries  of  the  Passage;  then,  farther  off,  in 
front  of  her,  the  high  houses  of  the  Rue  Vivienne,  the  backs  of 
which  were  so  devoid  of  life  that  they  seemed  empty.  Terraces 
rose  one  above  another.  On  a  roof  a  photographer  had  perched 
an  enormous  cage  of  blue  glass.  It  looked  very  gay.  Nana  was 
becoming  absorbed  in  contemplating  the  scene,  when  she  thought 
she  heard  a  knock  at  the  door.  She  turned  round  and  called  out: 

"Come  in!" 

On  seeing  the  count  enter  she  closed  the  window.  The  day 
was  cold,  and  it  was  not  necessary  that  curious  Madame  Bron 
should  overhear  them.  They  looked  at  one  another  gravely. 
Then,  as  he  stood  very  stiff  and  speechless,  she  laughed,  and  said: 

"Well!  so  there  you  are,  you  big  booby!" 

His  emotion  was  so  strong  that  he  seemed  frozen.  He  called 
her  madame,  and  said  how  happy  he  was  to  see  her  again.  So, 
to  bring  matters  to  the  point  that  she  desired,  she  became  more 
familiar  still. 

"Now  don't  stand  on  your  dignity.  As  you  wished  to  see  me, 
it  was  not  for  us  to  look  at  each  other  like  a  couple  of  china  dogs, 
I  suppose!  We've  both  been  wrong.  As  for  me,  I  forgive  you!" 

And  it  was  agreed  that  they  would  not  refer  to  the  subject 
again.  He  nodded  his  approval.  He  was  becoming  calmer  but, 
as  yet,  could  find  nothing  to  say  out  of  the  tumultuous  flow  of 
words  which  rushed  to  his  lips.  Surprised  at  his  coldness,  she 
played  her  trump  card. 

"Well,  now,  you're  reasonable,"  she  resumed,  with  a  slight 
smile.  "As  we've  made  our  peace,  let's  shake  hands  and  remain 
good  friends  for  the  future." 

"  How  good  friends?  "  murmured  he,  becoming  suddenly  anxious. 

"Yes,  perhaps  it's  stupid  of  me,  but  I  was  desirous  of  your 
esteem.  At  present  we've  explained  matters,  and  if  we  ever  meet 
each  other  anywhere,  we,  at  least,  won't  look  like  a  couple  of 
fools  — " 

He  seemed  on  the  point  of  interrupting  her. 

"  Let  me  finish  what  I  have  to  say.  No  man  —  do  you  hear?  — 
no  man  has  ever  had  anything  to  reproach  me  with.  Well,  it 
vexed  me  to  begin  with  you.  We  all  have  our  honour,  my  pet." 

"But  that's  not  it!"  he  exclaimed,  violently.  "Sit  down  and 
listen  to  me." 

n25I  3 


NANA 

And,  as  though  he  feared  she  might  go  away,  he  pushed  her  on  to 
the  only  chair.  He  walked  about,  his  agitation  increasing.  The 
little  dressing-room,  close  and  full  of  sunshine,  had  a  moist,  warm 
atmosphere,  and  not  a  sound  from  outside  reached  it,  except  the 
canary's  piercing  roulades,  which,  in  the  pauses,  seemed  like  the 
distant  trills  of  a  flute. 

"Listen,"  said  he,  standing  before  her,  "I  have  come  to  take 
you  back.  Yes,  I  want  to  begin  again.  You  know  it  well,  so  why 
do  you  talk  to  me  like  this?  Tell  me  —  you  consent?" 

She  held  down  her  head,  and  was  scratching  with  her  nail  the 
red  coloured  rush  seat,  which  appeared  to  be  bleeding  beneath 
her;  and,  seeing  him  so  anxious,  she  did  not  hurry  herself.  At 
length  she  raised  her  face,  now  become  serious,  while  to  her  eyes 
she  had  managed  to  give  an  expression  of  sadness. 

"Oh!  impossible,  little  man.    Never  again  will  I  live  with  you." 

"Why?"  stuttered  he,  as  a  twinge  of  intense  suffering  passed 
over  his  countenance. 

"Why?  well!  — because  —  it's  impossible,  that's  all.  I  don't 
wish  it." 

He  looked  at  her  ardently  for  a  few  seconds  longer.  Then, 
bending  his  legs,  he  knelt  on  the  floor.  She  looked  annoyed  and 
contented  herself  by  adding. 

"Oh!  don't  be  a  child!" 

But  he  was  already  behaving  as  one.  Fallen  at  her  feet,  he  had 
seized  her  round  the  waist,  which  he  squeezed  tightly,  with  his 
face  between  her  knees,  which  he  was  pressing  against  his  breast. 
When  he  felt  her  thus,  when  he  felt  again  the  velvet-like  texture 
of  her  limbs  beneath  the  thin  material  of  her  dress,  his  frame  shook 
convulsively;  and  shivering  with  fever,  and  distracted,  he  pressed 
harder  against  her,  as  though  he  wished  to  become  a  part  of  her. 
The  old  chair  creaked.  Sighs  of  desire  were  stifled  beneath  the 
low  ceiling,  in  the  atmosphere  rendered  foul  by  stale  perfumes. 

"Well!  and  what  next?"  said  Nana,  letting  him  do  as  he  pleased. 
"All  this  will  not  help  you,  when  I  tell  you  it's  not  possible.  Dear 
me!  how  young  you  are!" 

He  became  quieter,  but  he  remained  on  the  ground.  He  did 
not  let  go  of  her,  and  he  said,  in  a  voice  broken  by  sobs, 

"At  least,  listen  to  what  I  came  to  offer  you.  I  have  already 
seen  a  mansion  near  the  Pare  Monceau.  I  would  realise  all 
your  desires.  To  have  you  all  my  own  I  would  give  my  fortune. 

[252] 


NANA 

Yes!  that  would  be  the  only  condition  —  all  my  own,  you  under- 
stand me!  and  if  you  consent  to  be  mine  alone,  oh!  I  should  wish 
you  to  be  the  most  admired,  and  also  the  richest  —  carriages, 
diamonds,  dresses  - 

Nana  proudly  shook  her  head  at  each  offer.  Then  as  he  con- 
tinued, as  he  talked  of  settling  money  on  her,  not  knowing  what 
more  to  lay  at  her  feet,  she  seemed  to  lose  patience. 

"Come,  have  you  finished  mauling  me  about?  I'm  good- 
natured,  I  let  you  do  it  for  a  minute,  because  you  seemed  so 
upset;  but  there  now,  that's  enough,  isn't  it?  Let  me  get  up; 
you're  tiring  me." 

She  shook  him  off.  When  she  rose,  she  said:  "No,  no,  no  — 
I  won't." 

Then  he  regained  his  feet  painfully,  and  having  no  strength 
left,  he  dropped  on  to  the  chair,  leaning  against  the  back,  his 
face  buried  in  his  hands.  Nana  in  her  turn,  walked  about.  For 
a  moment  she  looked  at  the  stained  wall-paper,  the  greasy  dress- 
ing-table, all  over  that  dirty  hole,  bathed  in  the  pale  sunlight. 
Then  stopping  in  front  of  the  count,  she  spoke  without  the  slightest 
emotion. 

"  It's  funny  how  rich  people  suppose  they  can  have  everything 
for  their  money.  Well!  but  if  I  won't?  I  don't  care  a  pin  for 
your  presents.  You  might  give  me  all  Paris,  and  I  would  say 
'no,'  and  always  'no.'  It  isn't  very  clean  in  here,  as  you  see. 
Well!  I  should  think  it  lovely,  if  it  pleased  me  to  live  here  with 
you;  whereas  one  pines  away  in  your  palaces,  if  one's  heart  isn't 
there.  Ah!  money!  my  poor  fellow,  I  have  some  somewhere! 
But  let  me  tell  you,  I  dance  on  money!  more,  I  spit  upon  it!" 

And  she  assumed  a  look  of  disgust.  Then,  she  went  in  for  senti- 
ment, and  added  in  a  melancholy  tone  of  voice: 

"I  know  of  something  that  is  worth  more  than  money.  Ah! 
if  any  one  gave  me  what  I  desire." 

He  slowly  raised  his  head,  his  eyes  sparkled  with  hope. 

"Oh!  you  can't  give  it  me,"  she  resumed;  "it's  not  in  your 
power  to  do  so,  and  that  is  why  I  speak  of  it  to  you.  Well,  this 
is  only  between  ourselves  —  I  wish  for  the  part  of  the  grand  lady, 
in  their  new  piece." 

"What  grand  lady?"  murmured  he  in  surprise. 

"Their  Duchess  Helene,  of  course!  If  they  think  I'm  going 
to  play  Geraldine,  they're  very  much  mistaken!  A  part  of  no 


NANA 

consequence  at  all  —  one  scene,  and  not  much  in  that!  Besides, 
it's  not  only  that.  I've  had  enough  of  gay  women.  Always  gay 
women;  one  would  think  I've  nothing  in  me  but  gay  women. 
It's  become  annoying  in  the  long  run,  for  I  can  see  clear  enough, 
they  fancy  I'm  ill-bred.  Ah,  well!  my  friend,  they  make  a  slight 
mistake!  When  I  choose  to  be  the  grand  lady,  I  do  it  as  well 
as  any  one!  Just  look  at  this!" 

And  she  retreated  to  the  window,  then  advanced  carrying  her 
head  high,  measuring  her  steps  with  the  circumspect  air  of  a 
fat  old  hen,  hesitating  to  dirty  her  feet.  He  watched  her  with 
his  eyes  still  full  of  tears,  stupefied  by  this  sudden  bit  of  comedy 
traversing  his  anguish.  She  walked  about  for  a  while  to  show 
all  her  by-play,  smiling  delicately,  blinking  her  eye-lids,  swaying 
her  skirts;  then  stopping  in  front  of  him,  she  said: 

"Well!  I  think  that's  good  enough,  isn't  it?" 

"Oh!  quite,"  he  stammered,  with  a  choking  sensation  in  his 
throat,  and  his  glance  still  dim. 

"I  told  you  I  could  do  the  grand  lady!  I  tried  it  at  home, 
and  there's  not  one  of  them  that  has  my  little  air  of  a  duchess 
who  doesn't  care  a  hang  for  the  men.  Did  you  notice,  when  I 
passed  in  front  of  you,  how  I  quizzed  you?  That  air  only  comes 
with  the  blood.  And  then  I  want  to  play  the  part  of  a  respect- 
able woman.  It  has  been  my  dream;  it  is  making  me  quite 
unhappy.  I  must  have  the  part,  do  you  hear?  I  must 
have  it!" 

She  spoke  in  a  harsh  tone  of  voice.  She  had  become  serious 
now,  and  was  greatly  affected,  suffering  from  her  stupid  desire. 
Muffat,  not  yet  recovered  from  the  blow  of  her  refusals,  waited 
without  understanding.  There  was  a  short  silence,  which  was  not 
disturbed  by  the  least  sound. 

"Do  you  know,"  she  resumed,  without  any  more  beating  about 
the  bush;  "you  must  get  that  part  given  to  me." 

He  was  astounded.  Then  with  a  gesture  of  despair,  he  said, 
"But  it  is  not  possible!  You  said  yourself  that  I  had  no  power 
to  do  so." 

She  interrupted  him  with  a  shrug  of  her  shoulders. 

"You've  only  to  go  downstairs  and  say  to  Bordenave  that 
you  want  the  part.  Pray  don't  be  so  simple!  Bordenave  is  in 
want  of  money.  Well!  you  can  lend  him  some,  as  you've  such  a 
lot  to  throw  out  of  the  window."  And  as  he  still  argued  against 

£2543 


NANA 

it,  she  grew  angry.  "Very  well,  I  understand;  you* re  afraid 
Rose  won't  like  it.  I  didn't  speak  to  you  of  her  when  you  were 
sobbing  on  the  ground.  I  should  have  had  too  much  to  say  about 
her.  Yes,  when  a  man  swears  to  a  woman  that  he  will  love  her 
for  ever,  he  shouldn't  go  the  next  day  and  make  up  to  the  first 
one  he  meets.  Oh!  the  wound  is  here;  I  sha'n't  forget  it!  Be- 
sides, my  friend,  it's  not  so  pleasant  after  all  to  take  the  Mignons' 
leavings!  Before  you  went  and  made  a  fool  of  yourself  down  at 
my  knees,  you  would  have  done  better  to  have  broken  off  entirely 
with  that  dirty  set!" 

He  kept  protesting,  and  ended  at  last  by  being  able  to  say  a 
few  words.  "But  I  don't  care  a  button  for  Rose;  I  will  cast  her 
off  at  once." 

Nana  appeared  to  be  satisfied  on  that  point.  She  resumed: 
"Then  what  is  it  that  bothers  you?  Bordenave's  the  master. 
You'll  tell  me  that  besides  Bordenave  there's  Fauchery." 

She  spoke  slower  now.  She  was  arriving  at  the  delicate  part 
of  the  matter.  Muffat,  his  eyes  fixed  on  the  ground,  said  nothing. 
He  had  remained  in  a  voluntary  ignorance  respecting  Fauchery's 
assiduities  for  the  countess,  gradually  quieting  his  suspicions,  and 
hoping  that  he  had  been  mistaken  on  that  frightful  night  passed 
by  him  in  a  doorway  of  the  Rue  Taitbout.  But  he  entertained  a 
certain  repugnance  and  a  secret  anger  against  the  man. 

"Well  —  what!  Fauchery  isn't  the  devil!"  repeated  Nana, 
feeling  her  way,  wishing  to  find  out  how  things  were  between  the 
husband  and  the  lover.  "  It's  easy  enough  to  get  over  Fauchery. 
He  is  at  bottom  a  very  decent  fellow,  I  assure  you.  Well!  it's 
understood;  you'll  tell  him  it's  for  me." 

The  mere  idea  of  such  an  undertaking  was  revolting  to  the  count. 

"No,  no,  never!"  cried  he. 

She  waited.  This  phrase  came  to  her  lips,  "Fauchery  can 
refuse  you  nothing";  but  she  felt  that  it  would  be  rather  too 
strong  an  argument  to  use.  Only  she  smiled,  and  her  smile, 
which  was  a  peculiar  one,  seemed  to  speak  the  words.  Muffat, 
glancing  up  at  her  face,  lowered  his  gaze  again,  and  looked  pale 
and  embarrassed. 

"Ah!  you're  not  at  all  obliging,"  murmured  she  at  length. 

"I  cannot!"  said  he  in  a  voice  full  of  agony.  "Everything 
you  wish;  but  not  that,  my  love  —  oh!  I  pray  you!" 

So  she  did  not  waste  any  more  time  in  arguing.     With  her 

C  255  3  5} 


NANA 

little  hands  she  bent  back  his  head;  then  stooping  forward,  she 
pressed  her  lips  to  his  in  one  long  embrace.  A  thrill  passed  through 
his  frame.  He  started  beneath  her;  his  eyes  were  closed,  his 
reason  gone.  And  she  raised  him  from  his  seat. 

"Go,"  said  she,  simply. 

He  walked,  he  moved  towards  the  door;  but  as  he  was  about 
to  leave  the  room,  she  took  him  once  more  in  her  arms,  and, 
looking  up  at  him  meekly  and  coaxingly,  she  rubbed  her  cat-like 
chin  against  his  waistcoat. 

"Where  is  the  mansion?"  asked  she,  in  a  very  low  voice,  in 
the  confused  and  laughing  way  of  a  child  returning  to  some 
good  things  it  would  not  at  first  look  at. 

"In  the  Avenue  de  Villiers." 

"And  are  there  any  carriages?" 

"Yes." 

"And  lace,  and  diamonds?" 

"Yes." 

"Oh!  how  kind  you  are,  my  ducky!  You  know,  just  now,  it 
was  because  I  was  jealous;  and  this  time,  I  swear  to  you,  sha'n't 
be  like  the  first,  for  now  you  know  what  a  woman  requires.  You 
give  me  everything,  don't  you?  Then  I  sha'n't  want  to  have 
anything  to  do  with  any  one  else.  Look!  they're  only  for  you  now! 
—  that,  and  that,  and  that!" 

When  she  had  pushed  hiii  outside,  after  stimulating  him  with 
a  shower  of  kisses  on  his  face  and  hands,  she  stood  a  moment 
to  take  breath.  Good  heavens!  what  a  stench  there  was  in  the 
dressing-room  of  that  untidy  Mathilde!  It  was  warm  in  there, 
just  like  a  room  in  the  south  of  France  with  the  winter  sun  shin- 
ing upon  it;  but,  really,  it  s  nelt  too  much  of  stale  lavender  water, 
and  of  other  things  not  very  clean.  Nana  opened  the  window. 
She  looked  out  as  before,  and  examined  the  glass  roof  of  the 
Passage  to  pass  the  time  away. 

Muffat  staggered  down  stairs  with  a  buzzing  in  his  ears.  What 
was  he  to  say?  how  could  he  enter  into  this  matter,  which  was 
none  of  his  business?  As  he  reached  the  stage  he  heard  sounds  of 
quarrelling.  They  were  finishing  the  second  act.  PruIIiere  was 
in  a  fury  because  Fauchery  had  wished  to  strike  out  one  of  his 
speeches. 

"Strike  them  all  out  then,"  cried  he,  "I  would  rather  you 
did  that!  What!  I  haven't  two  hundred  lines,  and  now  some  of 


NANA 

those  are  to  be  taken  away!  No,  I've  had  enough  of  it;  I  throw 
up  my  part." 

He  pulled  out  of  his  pocket  a  crumpled  little  memorandum 
and  turned  it  over  in  his  trembling  hands,  as  though  about  to 
throw  it  on  to  Cossard's  knees.  His  injured  vanity  convulsed 
his  pale  face,  his  lips  being  tightly  compressed,  and  his  eyes  on 
fire,  without  his  being  able  to  conceal  that  internal  revolution. 
He,  Prulliere,  the  idol  of  the  public,  to  perform  a  part  of  two 
hundred  lines! 

"Why  not  make  me  bring  in  letters  on  a  salver?"  resumed  he, 
bitterly. 

"Come,  Prulliere,  do  be  pleasant,"  said  Bordenave,  who  hu- 
moured him  on  account  of  his  influence  on  the  people  in  the  boxes. 
"Don't  begin  your  complaints  again.  We  will  find  you  some 
good  effects.  Eh,  Fauchery?  you'll  introduce  some  effects  for 
him.  In  the  third  act  we  could  even  lengthen  one  of  the  scenes." 

"Then,"  declared  the  actor,  "I  must  have  the  word  at  the  end. 
You  certainly  owe  me  that." 

Fauchery's  silence  appeared  to  give  consent,  and  Prulliere  put 
his  part  back  in  his  pocket,  still  excited  and  discontented  all 
the  same.  Bosc  and  Fontan,  during  the  discussion,  had  assumed 
looks  of  supreme  indifference.  Every  one  for  himself.  It  did  not 
concern  them,  they  took  no  interest  in  it;  and  all  the  actors 
surrounded  Fauchery,  questioning  him  and  fishing  for  compli- 
ments, whilst  Mignon  listened  to  PruIIiere's  final  complaints, 
without  losing  sight  of  Count  Muffat,  whose  return  he  had  been 
watching  for.  The  count  remained  in  shadow  at  the  back  of  the 
stage,  hesitating  to  advance  into  the  midst  of  the  quarrel;  but 
Bordenave  catching  sight  of  him,  hastened  to  where  he  stood. 

"Aren't  they  a  set  of  grumblers?"  murmured  he.  "You've 
no  idea,  count,  what  trouble  I  have  with  those  people.  They're 
all  more  vain  one  than  the  other,  and  so  disobliging  and  spite- 
ful —  always  slandering  other  people,  and  only  too  delighted  if 
I  make  myself  ill  in  keeping  them  to  their  business.  But  excuse 
me,  I'm  losing  my  temper." 

He  stopped,  and  silence  ensued  between  them.  Muffat  was 
seeking  a  way  of  leading  up  to  the  subject  that  occupied  his 
mind;  but  failing  in  his  endeavour,  he  ended  by  abruptly  saying, 
so  as  to  get  it  over  the  sooner, 

"Nana  wants  to  play  the  part  of  the  duchess." 

£257:1 


NANA 

Bordenave  started  violently  as  he  exclaimed,  "Pooh!  that's 
absurd!"  Then  glancing  at  the  count,  he  saw  him  looking  so 
pale,  so  agitated,  that  he  regained  his  composure  at  once.  "The 
deuce!"  he  added  simply. 

And  there  was  again  silence  between  them.  As  for  himself, 
he  did  not  care  a  fig.  It  would  perhaps  be  funny  to  have  that 
fat  Nana  to  play  the  part  of  the  duchess.  Besides,  he  would 
thus  have  a  strong  hold  on  Muffat.  So  his  decision  was  soon 
formed.  He  turned  round  and  called, 

"Fauchery!" 

The  count  made  a  slight  gesture  to  stop  him.  Fauchery  did 
not  hear.  Fontan  had  got  him  up  against  the  proscenium  wall, 
and  was  giving  him  his  ideas  of  the  part  of  Tardiveau.  The 
actor  thought  he  should  make  up  as  a  Marseillais,  with  the 
southern  accent,  which  he  kept  imitating.  He  made  whole 
speeches  that  way;  was  that  the  proper  rendering  of  the  part? 
He  seemed  only  to  be  giving  his  own  ideas,  and  which  he  him- 
self had  doubts  about.  But  Fauchery,  keeping  very  cool  in  the 
matter,  and  offering  numerous  objections,  Fontan  became  an- 
noyed at  once.  Very  well!  As  the  correct  reading  of  the  part 
had  entirely  escaped  him,  it  would  be  far  better  for  every  one 
that  he  should  not  play  it. 

"Fauchery!"  Bordenave  again  called. 

Then  the  young  man  hurried  away,  glad  of  the  opportunity 
of  escaping  from  the  actor,  who  felt  highly  indignant  at  being 
left  in  so  abrupt  a  manner. 

"Don't  let  us  remain  here,"  resumed  Bordenave.  "Come, 
gentlemen." 

To  be  out  of  the  way  of  indiscreet  ears,  he  took  them  to  the 
property  room  behind  the  stage.  Mignon  watched  them  go  off, 
greatly  surprised.  A  few  steps  descended  to  the  room,  which 
was  square,  with  a  couple  of  windows  looking  on  to  the  court- 
yard. The  ceiling  was  low,  and  the  dirty  window  panes  only 
admitted  that  dim  light  usually  met  with  in  cellars.  In  pigeon- 
holes placed  about  the  room  was  a  collection  of  all  sorts  of  things 
-the  turn-out  of  a  second-hand  dealer  of  the  Rue  de  Lappe 
selling  off,  an  odd  medley  of  plates,  of  cups  in  gilded  pasteboard, 
of  old  red  umbrellas,  of  Italian  pitchers,  of  clocks  of  every  shape 
and  size,  of  trays  and  inkstands,  of  fire-arms  and  squirts  - 
the  whole  heaped  anyhow,  chipped,  broken,  unrecognisable,  and 


NANA 

covered  with  a  layer  of  dust  an  inch  thick;  and  an  unbearable 
stench  of  old  iron  and  rags  and  of  damp  pasteboard  arose  from 
the  piles  formed  of  the  remains  of  the  pieces  produced  during  a 
period  of  fifty  years. 

"Come  in  here,"  said  Bordenave.  "We  shall  at  least  be  by 
ourselves." 

The  count,  very  much  embarrassed,  moved  on  a  few  steps,  to 
leave  the  manager  to  arrange  matters  by  himself.  Fauchery 
could  not  make  it  all  out. 

"What's  up?"  he  asked. 

"Well,  it's  just  this,"  said  Bordenave  at  length.  "An  idea 
has  occurred  to  us  —  now,  don't  jump,  it's  very  serious.  What 
do  you  think  of  Nana  playing  the  part  of  the  duchess?" 

At  first  the  author  was  quite  bewildered,  then  he  burst  out, 

"Oh,  no!  you  can't  mean  it  —  it  must  be  a  joke.  Every  one 
would  laugh  at  it." 

"Well!  it's  something  to  get  people  to  laugh!  Think  it  over, 
dear  boy.  The  count  is  very  much  smitten  with  the  idea." 

Muffat,  to  conceal  his  emotion,  had  taken  an  object  that  he  did 
not  seem  to  recognise  from  amidst  the  dust  on  a  shelf.  It  was 
an  egg-cup,  the  foot  of  which  had  been  mended  with  plaster. 
He  kept  it  in  his  hand  without  knowing  he  did  so,  and  advanced 
towards  the  others  to  murmur: 

"Yes,  yes,  it  would  be  capital." 

Fauchery. turned  round  upon  him,  with  an  impatient  gesture. 
The  count  had  nothing  to  do  with  his  piece;  and  he  exclaimed 
in  a  decided  tone  of  voice: 

"Never!  Nana  as  the  gay  woman  as  much  as  you  like,  but  as 
the  grand  lady,  not  if  I  know  it!" 

"You  do  not  judge  her  fairly,  I  assure  you,"  resumed  Muffat, 
becoming  bolder.  "Only  just  now,  she  was  showing  me  how  well 
she  could  play  the  grand  lady." 

"Where?"  inquired  Fauchery,  whose  astonishment  increased. 

"Upstairs,  in  one  of  the  dressing-rooms.  Well!  she  did  it 
splendidly.  Oh!  such  distinction!  She  can  give  such  glances, 
too,  you  know,  in  passing  —  this  way." 

And  with  the  egg-cup  in  his  hand,  he  tried  to  imitate  Nana, 
forgetting  himself  in  the  force  of  his  desire  to  convince  the  two 
other  men.  Fauchery  watched  him  in  amazement.  He  under- 
stood, and  his  anger  vanished.  The  count,  who  felt  his  glance 


NANA 

upon  him,  in  which  there  was  derision  and  pity  combined,  blushed 
slightly  and  stopped. 

"Well!  it  may  be  so,"  murmured  the  author,  obligingly.  "She 
would  perhaps  do  it  very  well,  only  the  part  is  already  given. 
We  cannot  take  it  away  from  Rose." 

"Oh!  if  that's  all,"  said  Bordenave,  "I  will  undertake  to 
manage  that." 

But  then,  seeing  them  both  against  him,  understanding  that 
Bordenave  had  some  hidden  motive  for  acting  as  he  did,  the 
young  man,  not  wishing  to  give  way,  declined  again,  but  with 
increased  energy,  and  in  a  manner  not  to  admit  of  any  further 
discussion. 

"No,  I  say!  and  no,  and  always  no!  Even  if  the  part  was 
not  filled  up  I  would  never  give  it  to  her  —  there,  is  that  clear 
enough  for  you?  And  now  let  me  be,  I  don't  want  to  damn  my 
own  piece." 

After  this  there  was  an  embarrassed  silence.  Bordenave, 
thinking  himself  in  the  way,  withdrew  some  distance  off.  The 
count  stood  with  his  head  bowed  down.  He  raised  it  with  an 
effort,  and  said,  in  a  broken  voice, 

"My  dear  fellow,  if  I  ask  you  to  do  it  as  a  special  favour  to 
myself?" 

"I  cannot,  I  cannot,"  repeated  Fauchery,  struggling. 

MufTat's  voice  became  harsher. 

"I  beg  of  you  —  I  wish  it!" 

And  he  looked  him  straight  in  the  eyes.  Beneath  that  black 
look,  in  which  he  read  a  menace,  the  young  man  suddenly  gave 
way,  stammering  confusedly, 

"Well,  after  all,  do  as  you  wish  —  I  don't  care.  Ah!  you  are 
unfair.  You  will  see  —  you  will  see  — " 

The  embarrassment  then  became  greater.  Fauchery  had  leant 
up  against  some  shelves,  and  was  nervously  stamping  on  the  floor 
with  his  foot.  Muffat  appeared  to  be  examining  the  egg-cup 
very  attentively,  as  he  continued  to  turn  it  round  between  his 
fingers. 

"It's  an  egg-cup,"  Bordenave  obligingly  came  and  said. 

"Why!  yes,  it's  an  egg-cup,"  repeated  the  count. 

"Excuse  me,  you're  all  covered  with  dust,"  continued  tne 
manager,  as  he  replaced  the  article  on  a  shelf.  "You  see,  it 
would  be  impossible  to  be  dusting  here  every  day  —  one  would 

£260] 


NANA 

always  be  at  it.  The  consequence  is  it's  not  very  clean.  What 
a  mixture,  isn't  it?  Well,  believe  me  if  you  like,  it  represents 
a  lot  of  money.  Look  here  —  and  here." 

He  led  Muffat,  in  the  greenish  light  that  came  from  the  court- 
yard, in  front  of  all  the  shelves,  naming  the  different  articles, 
wishing  to  interest  him  in  his  rag  merchant's  inventory,  as  he 
called  it.  Then,  when  they  had  worked  their  way  round  to  where 
Fauchery  stood,  he  said,  in  an  easy  tone  of  voice, 

"Listen!  As  we  are  now  agreed,  we'll  settle  this  matter  at 
once.  Ah!  there  is  Mignon." 

For  a  little  while  past  Mignon  had  been  hanging  about  in  the 
passage.  At  the  first  words  Bordenave  uttered,  suggesting  an 
alteration  in  their  agreement,  he  flew  into  a  passion.  It  was 
disgraceful.  They  wanted  to  ruin  his  wife's  prospects.  He 
would  go  to  law  about  it.  Bordenave,  however,  remained  very 
calm,  and  reasoned  with  him.  He  did  not  think  the  part  worthy 
of  Rose  —  he  preferred  to  reserve  her  for  an  operetta,  which 
would  come  on  after  the  "Little  Duchess";  but  as  the  husband 
still  complained,  he  abruptly  offered  to  annul  the  agreement,  and 
spoke  of  the  proposals  which  the  management  of  the  Folies- 
Dramatiques  Theatre  had  made  the  singer.  Then  Mignon,  for 
a  moment  worsted,  affected  a  great  disdain  for  money,  without, 
however,  denying  the  existence  of  the  offers  in  question.  They 
had  engaged  his  wife  to  play  the  part  of  the  Duchess  Helene, 
and  she  would  play  it,  even  though  it  cost  him  his  fortune.  It 
was  a  question  of  dignity,  of  honour.  Once  engaged  on  this 
ground,  the  discussion  became  interminable.  The  manager  always 
reverted  to  this  argument:  as  the  Folies-Dramatiques  people 
offered  Rose  three  hundred  francs  a  night  —  one  hundred  per- 
formances guaranteed  —  whilst  she  only  received  one  hundred 
and  fifty  from  him,  his  letting  her  go  meant  a  profit  of  fifteen 
thousand  francs  for  her.  The  husband,  on  his  side,  did  not  depart 
from  his  standpoint  —  that  of  art.  What  would  be  said  if  the 
part  was  taken  away  from  his  wife?  that  she  was  not  equal  to  it, 
and  had  been  replaced.  That  would  do  her  a  great  injury,  and 
would  lower  her  artistic  standard  considerably.  No,  no,  never! 
glory  before  wealth!  Then,  all  on  a  sudden,  he  hinted  at  a  com- 
promise. According  to  the  agreement,  if  Rose  threw  up  her  en- 
gagement she  forfeited  ten  thousand  francs.  Weil,  if  they  gave 
her  that  sum  she  would  go  to  the  Folies-Dramatique  Theatre. 


NANA 

Bordenave  could  scarcely  believe  his  ears,  whilst  Mignon,  who 
had  not  taken  his  eyes  off  the  count  quietly  waited. 

"Then  that  settles  everything/*  murmured  Muffat  with  relief. 
"We  are  all  agreed." 

"Ah,  no!  by  Jove!  it  would  be  too  idiotic!"  exclaimed  Borde- 
nave, carried  away  by  his  business  instincts.  "Ten  thousand 
francs  to  get  rid  of  Rose!  you  must  think  me  a  fool!" 

But  the  count  kept  signalling  to  him  to  agree  to  the  proposal. 
He,  however,  still  hesitated.  At  length,  grumbling,  regretting 
the  ten  thousand  francs,  though  they  were  not  to  come  out  of 
his  pocket,  he  curtly  resumed, 

"After  all,  I'm  willing.    I  shall  at  least  be  rid  of  you." 

For  a  quarter  of  an  hour  past,  Fontan  had  been  listening  in 
the  courtyard.  Very  curious  to  know  what  was  going  on,  he 
had  gone  and  posted  himself  there.  When  he  had  heard  all  there 
was  to  learn,  he  returned  indoors,  and  gave  himself  the  treat  of 
informing  Rose.  Ah,  well!  they  were  having  a  fine  talk  about  her; 
she  was  done  for.  Rose  rushed  to  the  property  room.  They  all 
remained  silent.  She  looked  at  the  four  men.  Muffat  bowed  his 
head;  Fauchery  answered  her  inquiring  gaze  with  a  despairing 
shrug  of  his  shoulders.  As  for  Mignon,  he  was  discussing  the 
terms  of  the  agreement  with  Bordenave. 

"What's  up?"  asked  she  in  a  sharp  tone  of  voice. 

"Nothing,"  said  her  husband.  "It's  only  Bordenave  who's 
going  to  give  ten  thousand  francs  for  the  return  of  your  part." 

She  was  very  pale  and  trembling  as  she  stood  there  with  clinched 
fists.  For  a  moment  she  looked  him  straight  in  the  eyes  in  a 
revolt  of  her  whole  being  —  she  who  ordinarily  quietly  submitted 
to  him  in  all  business  matters,  the  making  of  agreements  with 
her  managers  and  her  lovers.  She  only  found  these  few  words  to 
say,  which  struck  him  full  in  the  face  like  the  lash  of  a  whip, 

"Ah,  really!  you  are  too  much  a  coward!" 

And  then  she  left  them.  Mignon,  greatly  alarmed,  hastened 
after  her.  What  was  the  matter?  was  she  mad?  He  explained 
to  her  in  a  whisper  that  ten  thousand  francs  from  one  side  and 
fifteen  thousand  francs  from  the  other  made  twenty-five  thousand 
francs.  A  magnificent  stroke  of  business!  Anyhow,  it  was 
certain  that  Muffat  was  going  to  leave  her;  therefore  it  was 
quite  evident  they  ought  to  congratulate  themselves  on  having 
succeeded  in  plucking  that  last  feather  from  his  wing.  But 


NANA 

Rose  was  so  enraged  she  would  not  answer.  Then  Mignon  left 
her  with  disdain  to  her  woman's  vexation.  He  said  to  Bordenave, 
who  was  returning  to  the  stage  with  Fauchery  and  Muffat, 

"We  will  sign  the  agreement  to-morrow  morning.  Have  the 
money  ready.'* 

Nana,  informed  by  Labordette  of  what  had  taken  place,  arrived 
triumphant.  She  affected  the  style  of  a  respectable  woman, 
with  most  distinguished  ways,  just  to  astonish  every  one  and  to 
prove  to  those  idiots  that,  when  she  liked,  not  one  of  them  could 
come  up  to  her;  but  she  almost  forgot  herself.  Rose,  as  soon  as 
she  saw  her,  flew  at  her,  stammering  in  a  choking  voice, 

"Ah!  I  shall  see  you  again.  We  must  have  it  out,  do  you 
hear?" 

Taken  off  her  guard  by  this  sudden  attack,  Nana  was  on  the 
point  of  putting  her  fists  on  her  hips  and  abusing  the  other  roundly. 
She  restrained  herself,  however,  and  exaggerating  the  fluty  tone 
of  her  voice,  making  the  gesture  of  a  marchioness  on  the  point  of 
treading  on  a  piece  of  orange  peel,  she  said, 

"Eh?  what?    You  must  be  crazy,  my  dear!" 

And  she  continued  her  airs,  whilst  Rose  went  off  followed  by 
Mignon,  who  scarcely  knew  her.  Clarisse,  to  her  great  delight, 
had  just  had  the  part  of  Geraldine  given  to  her  by  Bordenave. 
Fauchery  moodily  stamped  about,  without  being  able  to  make 
up  his  mind  to  leave  the  theatre.  His  piece  would  be  damned; 
he  was  wondering  how  he  could  save  it.  But  Nana  went  and 
seized  hold  of  him  by  the  wrists,  and  asked  him  if  he  thought 
her  so  very  dreadful.  She  would  not  damn  his  piece;  and  she 
made  him  laugh,  and  let  him  understand  that  she  might  be  of 
assistance  to  him  with  Muffat.  If  her  memory  failed  her,  she 
would  make  use  of  the  prompter;  they  would  pack  the  house. 
Besides,  he  was  mistaken  in  her;  he  would  see  how  she  would 
carry  all  before  her.  Then  it  was  settled  that  the  author  should 
slightly  alter  the  part  of  the  duchess,  so  as  to  give  more  to  Prul- 
liere.  The  latter  was  delighted.  In  the  general  joy  that  Nana 
seemed  naturally  to  bring  with  her,  Fontan  alone  remained  in- 
different. Standing  up,  full  in  the  yellow  glare  of  the  gas-jets, 
he  showed  himself  off,  displaying  his  sharp  goat-like  profile,  and 
affecting  an  easy  posture.  Nana  coolly  went  up  to  him,  and  hold- 
ing out  her  hand,  said, 

"Are  you  quite  well?" 


NANA 

"Yes,  pretty  well.    And  you?" 

"I'm  very  well,  thanks." 

That  was  all.  It  seemed  as  though  they  had  left  each  other 
only  the  night  before  at  the  door  of  the  theatre.  The  actors, 
during  all  this  time,  had  been  waiting;  but  Bordenave  at  length 
said  they  would  not  rehearse  the  third  act  that  day.  Punctual 
for  a  wonder,  old  Bosc  went  off  grumbling;  they  were  always 
keeping  them  without  any  necessity,  they  made  them  waste 
entire  afternoons.  Everyone  went  away.  Below,  arrived  on  the 
pavement,  they  blinked  their  eyes,  blinded  by  the  bright  daylight, 
with  the  bewilderment  of  people  who  have  spent  three  hours 
quarrelling  in  the  depths  of  a  cellar,  with  a  constant  strain  upon 
their  nerves.  The  count,  feeling  dizzy  and  over-wrought,  got 
into  a  cab  with  Nana,  whilst  Labordette  went  off  consoling 
Fauchery. 

A  month  later,  the  first  performance  of  the  "Little  Duchess" 
was  a  great  disaster  for  Nana.  She  was  atrociously  bad  in  it. 
She  made  pretensions  to  high-class  comedy  which  filled  the 
audience  with  merriment.  No  one  hissed,  they  were  all  too  much 
amused.  Seated  in  one  of  the  stage-boxes,  Rose  Mignon  greeted 
each  appearance  of  her  rival  with  a  shrill  burst  of  laughter,  thus 
setting  off  the  whole  house.  It  was  a  first  revenge.  And  when, 
at  night-time,  Nana  found  herself  alone  with  the  count,  who  was 
very  much  cut  up,  she  said  to  him  furiously, 

"What  a  dead  set  they  made  against  me!  It's  all  jealousy! 
Ah!  if  they  knew  how  little  I  care  for  it!  I  can  do  without  them 
all  now!  I'll  bet  a  hundred  louis  that  I'll  make  all  those  who 
laughed  lick  the  ground  at  my  feet!  Yes,  I'll  teach  your  Paris 
what  it  is  to  be  a  grand  lady!" 


C2643 


CHAPTER  X 

THEN  Nana  became  a  woman  of  fashion,  a  marchioness  of 
the  streets  frequented  by  the  upper  ten,  living  on  the  stu- 
pidity and  the  depravity  of  the  male  sex.  It  was  a  sudden 
and  definitive  start  in  a  new  career,  a  rapid  rise  in  the  celebrity 
of  gallantry,  in  the  full  light  of  the  follies  of  wealth  and  of  the 
wasteful  effronteries  of  beauty.  She  reigned  at  once  among  all 
that  was  most  costly.  Her  photographs  were  in  all  the  windows, 
her  name  was  mentioned  in  the  newspapers.  When  she  passed 
along  the  Boulevards  in  her  carriage,  the  crowd  turned  to  look 
at  her,  and  uttered  her  name  with  the  emotion  of  a  people  salut- 
ing its  sovereign;  whilst  she,  quite  at  her  ease,  reclined  in  her 
wavy  costumes,  and  smiled  gaily  beneath  the  shower  of  little 
golden  curls  which  half  hid  the  blue  circle  round  her  eyes  and 
the  carmine  on  her  lips.  And  the  marvel  was  that  this  big  girl, 
who  was  so  awkward  on  the  stage,  so  ludicrous  the  moment  she 
tried  to  act  the  respectable  woman,  charmed  every  one  about 
town  without  an  effort.  Adorned  with  a  deshabille  as  artful  and 
exquisitely  elegant  as  it  was  ostensibly  unintentional,  she  combined 
the  suppleness  of  the  adder  with  the  nervous  distinction  of  a 
thorough-bred  cat,  like  an  aristocracy  of  vice,  superb  and  rebellious, 
treading  Paris  under  foot  in  the  manner  of  an  all-powerful  mistress. 
She  set  the  fashion,  and  great  ladies  followed  it. 

Nana's  mansion  was  in  the  Avenue  de  Villiers,  at  the  corner 
of  the  Rue  Cardinet,  in  that  quarter  of  luxury  which  had  sprung 
up  in  the  midst  of  the  empty  expanse,  formerly  the  plain  of 
Monceau.  Erected  by  a  young  painter  intoxicated  by  a  first 
success,  and  who  had  been  forced  to  sell  it  when  the  plaster  was 
scarcely  dry,  it  was  built  in  the  renaissance  style,  with  the  air 
of  a  palace,  a  certain  fantastical  internal  arrangement,  and  modern 
conveniences  within  a  space  rather  restricted  for  such  a  display 
of  originality.  Count  Muffat  had  purchased  the  place  furnished, 
full  of  a  host  of  knick-knacks,  of  beautiful  Eastern  hangings,  of 
old  credences,  and  big  arm-chairs  of  the  time  of  Louis  XIII; 

1:265] 


NANA 

and  Nana  had  thus  fallen  into  a  stock  of  the  choicest  artistic  furni- 
ture selected  from  the  productions  of  centuries.  But  as  the  studio 
which  occupied  the  centre  of  the  building  could  be  of  no  use  to 
her,  she  had  pulled  the  different  floors  to  pieces,  leaving  on  the 
ground  floor  a  conservatory,  a  drawing-room,  and  a  dining-room, 
and  arranging  a  parlour  on  the  first  floor  close  to  her  bed-room  and 
dressing-room.  She  surprised  the  architect  by  the  ideas  she  gave 
him,  showing  herself  at  once  at  home  in  all  the  refinements  of 
luxury,  like  the  Paris  street-girl  who  ha?  the  instinct  of  elegance. 
In  short,  she  did  not  spoil  the  mansion  over  much  —  she  even 
added  to  the  richness  of  its  furniture  —  with  the  exception  of  a 
few  traces  of  tender  stupidity  and  gaudy  splendour,  typical  of 
the  former  artificial  flower-maker  who  had  dreamily  gazed  into 
the  shop  windows  of  the  Passages. 

A  carpet  was  laid  up  the  steps  in  the  courtyard  ./beneath  the 
grand  verandah;  and  from  the  vestibule  there  came  an  odour  of 
violets,  a  warm  atmosphere  confined  by  heavy  hangings.  A 
yellow  and  rose-coloured  glass  window,  of  the  paleness  of  flesh, 
lighted  the  wide  staircase,  at  the  foot  of  which  stood  the  figure 
of  a  negro,  in  sculptured  wood,  holding  a  silver  salver  full  of 
visiting  cards.  Four  women  in  white  marble,  with  bare  breasts, 
supported  some  elegant  lamps,  whilst  bronzes  and  Chinese  vases 
filled  with  flowers,  sofas  covered  with  the  products  of  ancient 
Persian  looms,  and  easy-chairs  with  old  tapestries  furnished  the 
vestibule,  adorned  the  landings,  turning  the  one  on  the  first 
floor  into  a  kind  of  ante-room,  in  which  men's  coats  and  hats 
were  always  to  be  seen  lying  about.  The  carpets  deadened  all 
sound,  and  such  a  peacefulness  hung  about  that  one  might  have 
imagined  oneself  entering  a  chapel  traversed  by  some  pious 
tremor,  and  the  silence  of  which  hid  a  mystery  behind  the  closed 
doors. 

Nana  only  opened  the  drawing-room,  which  was  in  the  Louis 
XVI  style,  and  rather  overdone,  on  gala-nights  when  she  enter- 
tained persons  from  the  Tuileries,  or  distinguished  foreigners. 
Usually,  she  was  only  downstairs  at  meal  times,  feeling,  more- 
over, rather  lost  on  the  days  when  she  lunched  alone  in  the  lofty 
dining-room,  which  was  decorated  with  Gobelin  tapestry,  and  a 
monumental  credence,  and  enlivened  with  old  china,  and  marvel- 
lous specimens  of  ancient  silver  ware.  She  would  return  upstairs 
as  soon  as  the  meal  was  over;  for  she  lived,  so  to  say,  in  the  three 


NAN-A 

rooms  on  the  first  floor  —  the  bed-room,  the  dressing-room  and 
the  parlour.  She  had  twice  changed  the  decorations  of  the  bed- 
room :  the  first  time  she  had  had  it  hung  in  mauve  satin,  the  second 
in  white  lace  on  blue  silk;  but  she  was  not  satisfied,  she  thought 
it  looked  dull,  and  tried  to  think  of  some  improvement,  but  with- 
out success.  Over  the  well-padded  bedstead,  which  was  as  low 
as  a  sofa,  there  was  twenty  thousand  francs  worth  of  Venetian 
lace.  The  furniture  was  in  blue  and  white  lacquer,  inlaid  with 
fillets  of  silver;  whilst  white  bearskins  were  everywhere  spread 
in  such  profusion,  that  they  covered  the  carpet.  This  was  one 
of  Nana's  caprices,  she  having  been  unable  to  get  rid  of  the  habit 
of  sitting  down  on  the  floor  to  take  her  stockings  off.  Next  to 
the  bed-room,  the  parlour  offered  an  amusing  medley,  and  a  most 
artistic  one.  Against  the  pale  rose-coloured  silk  hangings  —  a 
faded  Turkey  rose,  stitched  with  gold  —  stood  out  a  multitude 
of  objects  of  all  countries,  and  of  all  styles  —  Italian  cabinets, 
Spanish  and  Portuguese  coffers,  Chinese  pagodas,  a  Japanese 
screen  of  the  most  precious  workmanship,  then  china  and  bronzes, 
embroidered  silks,  and  the  finest  tapestries;  whilst  easy-chairs 
as  big  as  beds,  and  sofas  as  deep  as  alcoves,  gave  to  the  whole 
the  lazy,  drowsy  appearance  of  a  seraglio.  The  room  preserved 
a  tone  of  old  gold,  blended  with  green  and  red,  without  anything 
indicating  too  much  the  abode  of  a  gay  woman,  excepting  per- 
haps the  voluptuousness  of  the  seats :  two  small  porcelain  figures, 
a  woman  in  her  chemise  catching  fleas,  and  another  perfectly  naked 
walking  on  her  hands,  with  her  legs  in  the  air,  alone  sufficed  to 
sully  the  apartment  with  a  stain  of  eccentric  stupidity.  And 
by  a  door  almost  always  open,  one  caught  sight  of  the  dressing- 
room,  all  in  marble  and  mirrors,  with  the  white  basin  of  its  bath, 
its  silver  bowls  and  ewers,  its  furnishings  of  crystal  and  ivory. 
A  closed  curtain  maintained  a  faint  light,  and  gave  the  room  a 
sleepy  look,  as  though  oppressed  with  an  odour  of  violets,  that 
exciting  perfume  of  Nana's,  with  which  the  whole  house  and  even 
the  courtyard  was  penetrated. 

The  great  matter  was  to  secure  servants  for  the  establishment. 
Nana  still  had  Zoe,  that  girl  who  was  so  devoted  to  her  fortune, 
and  who  for  months  past,  confident  in  her  instinct,  had  been 
quietly  awaiting  this  new  start  in  life.  Now,  Zoe  triumphed  — 
mistress  of  the  household,  and  feathering  her  own  nest,  yet  look- 
ing after  madame's  interests  as  honestly  as  possible.  But  a 


NANA 

lady's  maid  was  not  sufficient.  A  butler,  a  coachman,  a  concierge, 
a  cook,  were  required;  besides  which,  it  was  necessary  to  furnish 
the  stables.  Then  Labordette  made  himself  very  useful,  in  under- 
taking any  commissions  that  bothered  the  count.  He  bargained 
for  the  horses,  went  to  the  coachbuilders,  and  assisted  the  young 
woman,  who  was  continually  met  with  on  his  arm  at  the  different 
dealers,  in  her  selections.  Labordette  even  engaged  the  servants 

—  Charles,  a  tall  coachman  who  had  been  in  the  service  of  the 
Duke  de  Corbreuse;   Julien,  a  little  butler  with  curly  hair  and 
always  smiling;    and  a  married  couple,  of  whom  the  woman, 
Victorine,  was  cook,  while  the  man,  Franfois,  acted  as  concierge 
and  footman.    The  latter,  with  powdered  hair  and  knee  breeches, 
and  wearing  Nana's  livery,  light  blue  and  silver  lace,  received  the 
visitors  in  the  vestibule.    Everything  was  done  in  princely  style. 

By  the  second  month  all  was  in  working  order.  The  expenses 
were  at  the  rate  of  three  hundred  thousand  francs  a  year.  There 
were  eight  horses  in  the  stables,  and  five  carriages  in  the  coach- 
houses. There  was  one  especially  —  a  landau  with  silver  orna- 
ments —  which  for  a  time  occupied  all  Paris.  And  Nana,  in  the 
midst  of  this  fortune,  gradually  settled  down.  She  had  left  the 
theatre  after  the  second  performance  of  the  "Little  Duchess," 
leaving  Bordenave  to  struggle  as  best  he  could  against  threatened 
bankruptcy,  in  spite  of  the  count's  money.  All  the  same,  she 
bitterly  felt  her  failure.  It  added  to  the  lesson  Fontan  had  given 
her  —  a  dirty  trick  for  which  she  held  all  the  men  responsible. 
She  now  considered  herself  proof  against  all  fads  and  infatuations; 
but  her  thoughts  of  vengeance  did  not  remain  for  long  in  her 
flighty  brain.  What  did  remain  there,  however,  outside  her 
moments  of  anger,  was  an  ever  keen  appetite  for  squandering 
money,  a  natural  disdain  for  the  man  who  paid,  a  perpetual  caprice 
for  devouring  and  destroying,  a  pride  in  the  ruin  of  her  lovers. 

Nana  commenced  by  putting  the  count  on  a  satisfactory  foot- 
ing. She  settled  clearly  the  programme  of  their  relations.  He 
gave  twelve  thousand  francs  a  month,  without  counting  presents, 
and  only  asked  in  return  an  absolute  fidelity.  She  swore  to  be 
faithful;  but  she  insisted  on  being  treated  with  deference,  on 
enjoying  entire  liberty  as  mistress  of  the  household,  and  on  having 
all  her  wishes  respected.  For  instance,  she  would  receive  her 
friends  every  day;  he  himself  should  only  come  at  stated  hours 

—  in  short,  he  should  trust  her  implicitly  in  everything.     And 

£268:1 


NANA 

when  he  hesitated,  seized  by  a  jealous  anxiety,  she  became  very 
dignified,  threatening  to  return  him  everything,  or  else  swearing 
fidelity  on  the  head  of  her  little  Louis.  That  ought  to  be  sufficient. 
There  could  be  no  love  where  there  was  no  esteem.  At  the  end 
of  the  first  month,  Muffat  respected  her. 

But  she  desired  and  she  obtained  more.  She  soon  influenced 
him  in  a  good-natured  sort  of  way.  When  he  arrived  in  a  moody 
state  of  mind,  she  enlivened  him,  then  advised  him,  after  confess- 
ing him.  Little  by  little  she  busied  herself  with  his  family  cares 
—  his  wife,  his  daughter,  all  matters  connected  with  his  heart 
and  his  money;  and  she  did  so  in  a  very  reasonable  manner,  full 
of  justice  and  honesty.  Once  only  did  she  let  herself  be  carried 
away  by  passion  —  the  day  when  he  told  her  that  he  thought 
Daguenet  was  about  to  ask  him  for  nis  daughter's  hand.  Ever 
since  the  count  had  been  openly  protecting  Nana,  Daguenet  had 
thought  it  a  clever  move  to  break  off  all  connection  with  her, 
to  treat  her  as  a  hussy,  and  to  swear  to  deliver  his  future  father- 
in-law  from  the  creature's  clutches.  So  she  abused  her  old  friend 
Mimi  in  a  fine  way.  He  was  a  dissipated  rascal  who  had  squan- 
dered his  fortune  with  the  most  abominable  women.  Now,  he  had 
no  decency  about  him.  He  did  not  exactly  make  them  give  him 
money,  but  he  profited  by  what  others  gave  them,  merely  going 
himself  to  the  expense  of  an  occasional  bouquet  or  dinner;  and 
as  the  count  seemed  to  excuse  these  weaknesses,  she  told  him 
coarsely  that  she  had  been  Daguenet's  mistress,  and  furnished 
him  with  some  salacious  details.  Muffat  became  very  pale,  and 
did  not  again  speak  of  the  young  man.  It  would  teach  the  latter 
to  be  ungrateful. 

The  mansion,  however,  was  scarcely  furnished,  when  Nana, 
one  night  that  she  had  been  most  energetically  swearing  ever- 
lasting fidelity  to  Muffat,  retained  Count  Xavier  de  Vandeuvres, 
who,  for  a  fortnight  past,  had  been  paying  court  to  her  most 
assiduously,  by  means  of  visits  and  flowers.  She  gave  way  not 
through  any  infatuation,  but  rather  to  prove  to  herself  that 
she  was  at  liberty  to  do  as  she  pleased.  The  interested  motive 
came  afterwards,  when  Vandeuvres,  on  the  morrow,  helped  her 
to  settle  an  account,  that  she  would  rather  not  mention  to  the 
other  one.  She  would  be  able  to  get  out  of  him  about  eight  or 
ten  thousand  francs  a  month,  which  would  be  very  useful  by  way 
of  pocket  money.  He  was  just  then  finishing  up  his  fortune  in  a 

[2693 


NANA 

violent  fit  of  fever.  His  horses  and  Lucy  had  cost  him  three  farms, 
and  Nana  was  about  to  devour  his  last  chateau,  near  Amiens, 
in  a  single  mouthful.  He  seemed  in  a  hurry  to  sweep  off  everything 
—  even  to  the  remains  of  the  old  castle,  built  by  a  Vandeuvres  in 
the  reign  of  Philip  Augustus  —  with  a  maddening  appetite  for 
ruins,  and  thinking  it  a  fine  thing  to  leave  the  last  gold  bezants 
of  his  coat-of-arms  in  the  hands  of  that  girl  whom  all  Paris  desired. 
He  also  accepted  Nana's  conditions  —  entire  liberty  and  love  at 
fixed  times  —  without  even  being  so  passionately  simple  as  to 
exact  oaths.  Muffat  suspected  nothing.  As  for  Vandeuvres,  he 
knew  perfectly  all  that  was  going  on;  but  he  never  made  the 
slightest  allusion.  He  affected  ignorance,  with  the  cunning  smile 
of  a  sceptical  man  about  town  who  does  not  expect  impossibilities, 
so  long  as  he  has  his  own  particular  time,  and  that  Paris  knows  it. 

Then  Nana's  establishment  was  indeed  complete.  Nothing  was 
wanting,  either  in  the  stables,  the  kitchen,  or  the  bedroom.  Zoe, 
who  had  the  general  management,  found  means  of  escape  out  of 
the  most  difficult  entanglements.  There  was  a  kind  of  machinery 
in  everything,  as  at  a  theatre.  All  was  regulated  as  in  a  govern- 
ment office,  and  it  worked  with  such  precision,  that  for  some 
months  there  was  no  hitch  —  nothing  got  out  of  gear.  Only 
madame  gave  Zoe  an  immense  deal  of  trouble,  through  her  im- 
prudence, her  fads,  and  her  foolish  bravados.  So  the  maid  ended 
by  being  less  careful,  seeing  that  she  made  a  far  larger  profit 
when  anything  had  gone  wrong  —  whenever  madame  had  com- 
mitted some  new  piece  of  stupidity  that  needed  being  set  right. 
Then  it  rained  presents,  and  she  hooked  louis  in  the  troubled 
waters. 

One  morning,  when  Muffat  was  still  in  the  bed-room,  Zoe 
ushered  a  gentleman,  all  in  a  tremble,  into  the  dressing-room, 
where  Nana  was  changing  her  under-garments. 

"Why!  Zizi!"  said  the  young  woman,  in  amazement. 

It  was  indeed  George.  But  seeing  her  in  her  chemise,  with 
her  golden  hair  hanging  over  her  naked  shoulders,  he  seized  hold 
of  her,  put  his  arms  round  her  neck,  and  smothered  her  with  kisses. 
She  struggled,  greatly  frightened,  saying,  in  a  suppressed  voice, 

"Leave  off  —  do,  he's  in  there!  It's  stupid  of  you!  And  you, 
Zoe,  are  you  mad?  Take  him  away!  Keep  him  downstairs;  I'll 
try  and  come  there." 

Zoe  had  to  push  him  before  her.     Downstairs  in  the  dining- 

C2703 


NANA 

room,  when  Nana  was  able  to  rejoin  them,  she  scolded  them 
both.  Zoe  bit  her  lips,  and  went  off  looking  very  vexed,  saying 
that  she  thought  to  have  gratified  madame  in  doing  as  she  did. 
George  looked  at  Nana  with  so  much  pleasure  at  seeing  her 
again,  that  his  beautiful  eyes  filled  with  tears.  Now  the  evil 
days  had  gone  by,  his  mother  thought  he  had  got  over  his  in- 
fatuation, and  had  allowed  him  to  leave  Les  Fondettes;  but  on 
reaching  the  Paris  terminus,  he  had  hastened  in  a  cab  to  kiss  his 
darling  sweetheart  as  quickly  as  possible.  He  talked  of  living 
by  her  side  for  the  future,  the  same  as  in  the  country,  when  he 
used  to  wait  with  bare  feet  in  the  bed-room  at  La  Mignotte; 
and,  as  he  told  his  story,  he  thrust  out  his  fingers,  through  a 
longing  to  touch  her  after  that  year  of  cruel  separation.  He 
seized  hold  of  her  hands,  felt  up  the  wide  sleeves  of  her  dressing- 
gown,  even  as  high  as  her  shoulders. 

"You  still  love  your  baby?"  he  asked,  in  his  child-like  voice. 

"Of  course  I  do!"  replied  Nana,  who  abruptly  disengaged 
herself;  "but  you  arrive  here  without  a  word  of  warning.  You 
know,  my  little  boy,  I'm  not  free.  You  must  be  good." 

George,  who  alighted  from  his  cab  dazzled  by  a  long  desire  on 
the  point  of  being  satisfied,  had  not  bestowed  a  glance  on  the 
place  he  entered.  But  now  he  was  conscious  of  a  great  change 
around  him.  He  examined  the  rich  dining-room,  with  its  lofty 
gilded  ceiling,  its  Gobelin  tapestry,  and  its  sideboard  shining  with 
silver  plate. 

"Ah,  yes!"  said  he  sadly. 

And  she  gave  him  to  understand  that  he  must  never  call  in 
the  morning.  The  afternoon,  if  he  liked,  between  four  and  six 
o'clock,  which  was  the  time  when  she  received  company.  Then, 
as  he  gazed  at  her  with  a  supplicating  look  of  interrogation,  but 
without  asking  for  anything,  she  kissed  him  on  the  forehead,  in 
a  very  kind  good-natured  way. 

"Be  very  good,  and  I  will  do  my  best,"  she  murmured. 

But  the  truth  was  she  no  longer  felt  as  she  did  in  regard  to 
him.  She  thought  George  very  nice,  she  would  have  liked  to 
have  had  him  for  a  companion,  but  nothing  more.  However, 
when  he  came  every  day  at  four  o'clock,  he  seemed  so  sad,  that 
she  often  again  yielded,  permitted  him  to  hide  in  her  cupboards, 
and  continually  to  pick  up  the  crumbs  of  her  beauty.  In  time, 
he  scarcely  ever  left  the  house,  where  he  was  as  much  at  home 

1:2713 


NANA 

as  the  little  dog  Bijou,  both  of  them  among  the  mistress's  skirts, 
having  a  little  of  her,  even  when  she  was  with  another,  and 
catching  windfalls  of  sugar  and  caresses,  in  the  hours  of  weary 
solitude. 

No  doubt  Madame  Hugon  heard  of  her  boy's  new  fall  into 
the  power  of  that  bad  woman,  for  she  hurried  to  Paris  and  sought 
the  assistance  of  her  other  son,  Lieutenant  Philippe,  who  was 
then  in  garrison  at  Vincennes.  George,  who  had  been  hiding 
from  the  elder  brother,  was  seized  with  despair,  fearing  the 
employment  of  force;  and  as  he  could  keep  nothing  to  himself, 
in  the  nervous  expansion  of  his  tender-heartedness,  he  soon  talked 
to  Nana,  continually,  of  his  big  brother  —  a  strong  fellow  who 
would  dare  anything. 

"You  see,"  he  explained,  "mamma  will  not  come  here  herself, 
but  she  can  very  well  send  my  brother.  I'm  sure  she  will  send 
Philippe  to  fetch  me." 

The  first  time  he  mentioned  this,  Nana  was  greatly  offended. 
She  said  sharply, 

"I  should  just  like  to  see  him  do  it!  In  spite  of  his  being  a 
lieutenant,  Francois  will  very  quickly  send  him  to  the  right  about!" 

Then,  the  youngster  constantly  alluding  to  his  brother,  she 
ended  by  thinking  a  little  of  Philippe.  When  a  week  had  gone 
by,  she  knew  him  from  the  hair  of  his  head  to  the  tips  of  his 
toes  —  very  tall,  very  strong,  lively  and  rather  rough;  and  with 
all  that,  some  more  minute  details,  certain  hairs  on  his  arm,  a 
mole  on  his  shoulder.  So  that  one  day,  full  of  the  image  of  this 
man,  whom  she  was  to  send  off  a  little  quicker  than  he  came, 
she  exclaimed, 

"I  say,  Zizi,  it  doesn't  seem  as  if  your  brother  was  coming. 
He  must  be  a  coward!" 

On  the  morrow,  as  George  was  alone  with  Nana,  Francois 
came  and  asked  if  madame  would  receive  Lieutenant  Philippe 
Hugon.  The  youngster  turned  quite  pale,  and  murmured, 

"I  was  expecting  it;  mamma  spoke  to  me  this  morning." 

And  he  implored  the  young  woman  to  send  word  that  she  was 
engaged.  But  she  had  already  risen  and  said,  greatly  incensed, 

"Why,  pray?  he'll  think  I'm  afraid.  Ah,  well!  we'll  have  a 
good  laugh.  Francois,  let  the  gentleman  wait  a  quarter  of  an 
hour  in  the  drawing-room,  and  then  bring  him  to  me." 

She  did  not  sit  down  again  but  walked  feverishly  about,  going 


NANA 

from  the  looking-glass  over  the  mantlepiece  to  a  Venetian  mirror 
hanging  above  a  little  Italian  casket,  and  each  time  she  gave  a 
glance  or  essayed  a  smile,  whilst  George,  lying  on  a  sofa  without 
an  atom  of  strength  left  in  him,  trembled  at  the  idea  of  the  scene 
which  was  preparing.  As  she  walked  about  she  kept  uttering 
short  phrases: 

"  It  will  calm  the  fellow  to  keep  him  waiting  a  quarter  of  an 
hour.  And  then,  if  he  thinks  he's  come  to  a  nobody's,  the  draw- 
ing-room will  astonish  him.  Yes,  yes,  take  a  good  look  at  every- 
thing, my  friend;  it's  all  genuine.  It'll  teach  you  to  respect  the 
mistress.  It's  the  only  thing  men  can  understand  —  respect. 
Is  the  quarter  of  an  hour  gone  yet?  No,  scarcely  ten  minutes. 
Oh!  we've  plenty  of  time." 

She  could  not  keep  still.  When  the  quarter  was  up  she  sent 
George  away,  after  making  him  swear  not  to  listen  at  the  doors, 
for  it  would  look  very  bad  if  the  servants  were  to  see  him.  As 
he  went  into  the  bed-room,  Zizi  ventured  to  say  in  a  choking  voice, 

"You  know,  it's  my  brother  - 

"Don't  be  afraid,"  said  she  with  dignity;  "if  he's  polite,  I'll 
be  polite." 

Francois  ushered  in  Philippe  Hugon,  who  was  attired  in  an 
overcoat.  At  first  George  moved  across  the  bed-room  on  the  tips 
of  his  toes,  so  as  not  to  listen,  as  the  young  woman  had  told 
him;  but,  hearing  the  voices,  he  stopped,  hesitating,  and  so  full 
of  anguish  that  his  legs  yielded  beneath  him.  He  was  fancying 
all  manner  of  things  —  catastrophes,  slaps,  something  abominable 
that  would  sever  him  for  ever  from  Nana;  so  much  so  that  he 
could  not  resist  retracing  his  footsteps  and  putting  his  ear  to  the 
key-hole.  He  heard  very  indistinctly,  as  the  thickness  of  the 
hangings  deadened  the  sound.  Yet  he  was  able  to  catch  a  few 
words  uttered  by  Philippe,  harsh  phrases  in  which  occurred  such 
expressions  as  "child,  family,  honour."  In  his  anxiety  to  hear 
what  his  darling  would  reply,  his  heart  beat  wildly,  almost  stun- 
ning him  with  its  confused  hum.  No  doubt  she  would  retaliate 
with  a  "stupid  fool!"  or  a  "go  to  the  deuce,  I'm  in  my  own  house!" 
But  nothing  came  from  her,  not  even  the  sound  of  breathing; 
it  seemed  as  though  Nana  was  dead  in  there.  Soon,  too,  his 
brother's  voice  became  softer.  He  could  no  longer  understand 
anything,  when  suddenly  a  strange  noise  completed  his  amaze- 
ment. It  was  Nana  sobbing.  For  an  instant  contrary  feelings 


NANA 

struggled  within  him.  He  felt  impelled  to  run  away  —  to  rush 
in  at  Philippe.  But  just  at  that  moment  Zoe  entered  the  bed- 
room, and  he  withdrew  from  the  door,  ashamed  at  having  been 
caught. 

She  quietly  put  some  linen  away  in  a  cupboard,  whilst  he, 
dumb  and  immovable,  and  a  prey  to  uncertainty,  pressed  his  fore- 
head against  a  window-pane.  After  a  short  silence,  she  asked: 

"Is  it  your  brother  who's  with  madame?" 

"Yes,"  replied  he,  in  a  choking  voice. 

"And  are  you  uneasy  about  it,  Monsieur  George?"  she  inquired 
after  another  silence. 

"Yes,"  he  repeated  with  the  same  painful  difficulty. 

Zoe  did  not  hurry  herself.  She  folded  up  some  lace,  and  then 
said  slowly, 

"You  should  not  be.  Madame  will  settle  everything  all 
right." 

And  that  was  all.  They  did  not  speak  again;  but  she  did  not 
leave  the  room.  For  another  quarter  of  an  hour  she  moved 
about,  without  noticing  the  exasperation  of  the  youth,  who  grew 
pale  with  constraint  and  doubt.  He  gave  side  glances  in  the 
direction  of  the  drawing-room.  What  could  they  be  doing  all 
that  while?  Perhaps  Nana  was  still  crying.  The  ruffian  must 
have  slapped  her.  So  when  Zoe  at  length  went  off,  he  ran  back 
to  the  door,  and  again  held  his  ear  to  the  key-hole;  and  he  was 
quite  bewildered,  his  brain  in  a  whirl,  for  he  heard  a  sudden  burst 
of  gaiety,  tender  voices  whispering,  and  the  smothered  laughter 
of  a  woman  being  tickled.  But  almost  immediately  Nana  con- 
ducted Philippe  to  the  staircase,  with  an  interchange  of  cordial 
and  familiar  expressions.  When  George  at  length  ventured  into 
the  parlour,  the  young  woman  was  standing  in  front  of  the  mir- 
ror, looking  at  herself. 

"Well?"  he  asked,  scarcely  able  to  say  a  word. 

"Well,  what?"  said  she,  without  turning  round.  Then  she 
negligently  added,  "What  were  you  saying?  He's  a  very  nice 
fellow,  your  brother!" 

"Then  it's  all  settled?" 

"Of  course,  it's  settled.  Really!  what's  the  matter  with  you? 
Did  you  think  we  were  going  to  fight?" 

But  still  George  did  not  understand.  "  I  thought  I  heard  — " 
he  stammered  out.  "Have  you  not  been  crying?" 

[2743 


NANA 

"Crying?  I?"  she  exclaimed,  looking  him  straight  in  the  face. 
"You  were  dreaming!  Whatever  did  you  think  I  had  to  cry 
about? 

And  the  youngster  got  still  more  confused  when  she  scolded 
him  for  having  been  disobedient  and  listened  at  the  key-hole, 
spying  upon  her.  As  she  continued  cross  with  him,  he  resumed, 
very  submissively  and  coaxingly,  wishing  to  know, 

"Then  my  brother?" 

"Your  brother  saw  at  once  where  he  was.  You  see  I  might 
have  been  some  low  common  girl,  and  then  he  would  have  been 
right  to  interfere,  on  account  of  your  age  and  the  family  honour. 
Oh!  I  understand  those  feelings.  But  a  glance  was  sufficient 
for  him;  he  behaved  like  a  man  of  the  world.  So  don't  be  un- 
easy —  it's  all  over;  he  will  ease  your  mother's  mind."  And 
she  continued  with  a  laugh,  "Besides,  you'll  see  your  brother 
here.  I've  invited  him,  and  he'll  come." 

"Ah!  he's  coming  again,"  said  the  youngster,  turning  pale. 

He  said  nothing  more,  and  they  no  longer  talked  of  Philippe. 
She  was  dressing  to  go  out,  and  he  watched  her  with  his  big  sad 
eyes.  No  doubt  he  was  pleased  that  matter  had  been  arranged, 
for  he  would  have  preferred  death  to  not  seeing  Nana  again; 
but  in  his  heart  there  was  a  silent  anguish,  a  deep  pain,  which 
he  had  never  felt  before,  and  which  he  did  not  dare  to  mention. 
He  never  knew  how  Philippe  had  quieted  their  mother's  anxiety. 
Three  days  later  she  returned  to  Les  Fondettes,  seeming  quite 
satisfied.  That  same  night,  at  Nana's,  he  started  when  Francois 
announced  the  lieutenant.  The  latter  gaily  chaffed  him,  treated 
him  as  a  boy  whose  escapade  he  had  winked  at,  as  it  was  of  no 
consequence.  George,  feeling  sick  at  heart,  not  daring  to  move, 
blushed  like  a  girl  at  the  least  word.  He  had  lived  but  little  with 
Philippe,  who  was  ten  years  older  than  he.  He  feared  him  as  a 
father,  from  whom  one  hides  one's  little  adventures  with  women; 
and  he  felt  an  uneasy  shame  on  seeing  him  so  free  with  Nana, 
laughing  very  loud,  full  of  health,  and  thoroughly  enjoying  him- 
self. However,  as  his  brother  soon  called  every  day,  George 
began  to  get  used  to  his  presence.  Nana  was  radiant  with  joy. 
It  was  a  last  change  of  residence  in  the  full  fling  of  a  courtesan's 
life  —  a  house-warming  insolently  given  in  a  mansion  overflowing 
with  men  and  furniture. 

One  afternoon,  when  the  two  Hugons  were  there,  Count  Muffat 

£275] 


NANA 

called  outside  his  regular  hours;  but  Zoe  having  told  him  that 
madame  was  with  some  friends,  he  went  away  again,  without 
seeing  her,  in  the  discreet  style  of  a  gallant  gentleman.  When 
he  came  back  in  the  evening,  Nana  received  him  in  the  cold, 
angry  way  of  an  insulted  woman. 

"Sir/*  said  she,  "I  have  given  you  no  reason  for  insulting  me. 
Understand  that  when  I  am  at  home  you  are  to  enter  like  every 
one  else!" 

The  count  stood  with  his  mouth  wide  open.    "  But,  my  dear  - 
he  attempted  to  explain. 

"Because  I  had  visitors  perhaps!  Yes,  there  were  some  men 
here.  And  what,  pray,  do  you  think  I  do  with  them?  It  causes 
a  woman  to  be  talked  about,  affecting  those  airs  of  a  discreet 
lover,  and  I  do  not  wish  to  be  talked  about!" 

He  had  great  difficulty  in  obtaining  forgiveness.  At  heart  he 
was  delighted.  It  was  by  similar  scenes  to  this  that  she  kept 
him  obedient  and  convinced  of  her  fidelity.  For  some  time  past 
she  had  made  him  submit  to  George's  presence  —  a  youngster 
who  amused  her,  so  she  said.  She  got  him  to  dine  with  Philippe, 
and  the  count  was  very  amiable.  On  leaving  the  table,  he  took 
the  young  man  on  one  side,  and  asked  him  for  news  of  his  mother. 
From  that  time  the  Hugons,  Vandeuvres,  and  Muffat,  openly 
belonged  to  the  establishment,  where  they  met  together  as  in- 
timate friends.  It  was  more  convenient.  Muffat  alone  still  dis- 
creetly timed  his  visits  so  as  not  to  call  too  often,  and  invariably 
affected  the  ceremonious  air  of  a  stranger.  At  night-time,  when 
Nana,  seated  on  the  floor  on  her  bear-skins,  pulled  off  her  stock- 
ings, he  talked  in  a  friendly  way  of  the  other  gentlemen,  of  Philippe 
especially,  who  was  loyalty  itself. 

"That's  true,  they're  all  very  nice,"  said  Nana,  still  seated 
on  the  ground  and  changing  her  chemise.  "Only,  you  know, 
they  see  who  I  am.  Should  they  for  a  moment  forget  themselves, 
I  would  have  them  turned  out  of  the  house  at  once!" 

Yet,  in  the  midst  of  her  luxury,  in  the  midst  of  that  court, 
Nana  was  bored  to  death.  She  had  men  with  her  every  minute 
of  the  night,  and  money  everywhere,  even  in  the  drawers  of  her 
dressing-table  amongst  her  combs  and  brushes;  but  that  no 
longer  satisfied  her,  she  felt  a  void  somewhere,  a  vacancy  that 
made  her  yawn.  Her  life  rolled  on  unoccupied,  bringing  each 
day  the  same  monotonous  hours.  The  morrow  did  not  exist 


NANA 

for  her.  She  lived  like  a  bird,  sure  of  eating,  ready  to  sleep  on 
the  first  branch  she  came  across.  This  certainty  of  being  fed 
left  her  stretched  out  the  whole  day,  without  an  effort,  asleep 
in  the  midst  of  that  idleness  and  that  convent-like  submission, 
as  though  quite  hemmed  in  in  her  profession  of  courtesan.  Going 
out  only  in  a  carriage,  she  began  to  lose  the  use  of  her  legs.  She 
returned  to  the  amusements  of  her  childhood,  kissing  Bijou  from 
morning  to  night,  killing  time  with  the  silliest  pleasures  in  her 
unique  expectation  of  the  man  whom  she  put  up  with  in  a  com- 
plaisant and  weary  sort  of  way;  and,  in  the  midst  of  this  abandon- 
ment of  herself,  the  only  anxiety  she  had  was  for  her  beauty. 
She  was  continually  examining,  washing,  and  perfuming  herself 
all  over,  with  the  pride  of  being  able  to  appear  naked  before  any- 
one and  at  any  moment,  without  feeling  ashamed. 

Nana  rose  every  morning  at  ten  o'clock.  Bijou,  the  Scotch 
terrier,  woke  her  by  licking  her  face;  and  then  she  would  play  with 
him  for  five  minutes,  as  he  jumped  about  over  her  arms  and  legs, 
and  even  onto  the  count.  Bijou  was  the  first  of  whom  he  was 
jealous.  It  was  not  proper  that  an  animal  should  thrust  his  nose 
under  the  bed-clothes  in  that  way.  Towards  eleven  o'clock, 
Francis  came  to  do  up  her  hair,  preparatory  to  the  complicated 
head-dress  of  the  evening.  At  lunch,  as  she  detested  eating  alone, 
she  generally  had  Madame  Maloir,  who  arrived  in  the  morning 
from  no  one  knew  where,  with  her  extraordinary  bonnets,  and 
returned  at  night  to  the  mystery  of  her  life  without  anybody 
troubling  themselves  about  it.  But  the  worst  time  was  the  two 
or  three  hours  between  luncheon  and  the  evening  toilet.  Ordinarily 
she  proposed  a  game  at  bezique  to  her  old  friend;  sometimes  she 
read  the  "Figaro,"  the  theatrical  and  fashionable  news  in  which 
interested  her;  she  even  occasionally  opened  a  book,  for  she  prided 
herself  on  her  taste  for  literature.  Her  toilet  occupied  her  until 
nearly  five  o'clock.  Then  only  she  seemed  to  awake  from  her 
long  somnolence,  going  out  in  her  carriage  or  receiving  a  host  of 
men  at  home,  often  dining-out,  going  to  bed  very  late,  and  rising 
the  next  morning  with  the  same  fatigue,  and  beginning  a  fresh 
day  to  pass  it  in  a  similar  manner. 

Her  great  diversion  was  to  go  to  BatignoIIes  to  see  her  little 
Louis  at  her  aunt's.  For  fifteen  days  together  she  would  forget 
him  entirely.  Then  she  would  be  seized  with  a  rage  to  see  him, 
and  hurry  there  on  foot,  full  of  the  modesty  and  tenderness  of 

£277  3 


NANA 

a  good  mother,  bringing  all  sorts  of  presents,  as  though  for  an 
invalid  —  snuff  for  the  aunt,  oranges  and  sweeties  for  the  child; 
or  else  she  would  call  in  her  laudau  on  her  return  from  the  Bois, 
attired  in  such  loud  dresses  that  they  would  upset  the  whole 
street.  Ever  since  her  niece  had  become  such  a  grand  lady, 
Madame  Lerat  had  been  puffed  up  with  vanity.  She  called  but 
rarely  at  the  Avenue  de  Villiers,  pretending  that  it  was  not  her 
place;  but  she  triumphed  in  her  own  street,  happy  when  the  young 
woman  arrived  in  dresses  costing  four  or  five  thousand  francs, 
and  occupied  all  the  morrow  in  showing  her  presents,  and  quot- 
ing figures  which  amazed  her  neighbours.  Generally,  Nana  re- 
served Sunday  for  her  family,  and  on  that  day,  if  Muffat  asked 
her  to  go  anywhere,  she  refused,  smiling  like  a  young  house-wife. 
It  was  not  possible,  she  was  going  to  dine  with  her  aunt,  she  was 
going  to  see  her  baby.  With  all  that,  poor  little  Louis  was  always 
ill.  He  was  nearly  three  years  old,  and  was  getting  quite  a  big 
fellow;  but  he  had  had  an  attack  of  eczema  on  the  back  of  his 
neck,  and  now  he  had  deposits  in  his  ears,  which  made  them  fear 
a  caries  of  the  bones  of  the  cranium.  When  she  saw  him  looking 
so  pale,  with  his  poor  blood,  and  his  soft  flesh  spotted  with  yellow, 
she  became  very  serious,  and  above  all  she  was  greatly  surprised. 
What  could  be  the  matter  with  the  love  for  him  to  sicken  like  that? 
She,  his  mother,  was  always  so  well! 

The  days  when  her  child  did  not  engage  her  attention,  Nana 
relapsed  into  the  noisy  monotony  of  her  existence  —  drives  in 
the  Bois,  first  nights  at  theatres,  dinners  and  suppers  at  the 
Maison  Doree  or  the  Cafe  Anglais;  then  all  the  public  resorts, 
all  the  sights  where  the  crowds  flocked  —  Mabille,  reviews,  races. 
But  she  still  retained  that  empty  feeling  of  stupid  idleness,  which 
gave  her  pains  in  her  inside.  In  spite  of  the  constant  infatuations 
in  which  her  heart  indulged,  she  would  stretch  her  arms  the  moment 
she  was  alone,  with  a  gesture  of  immense  fatigue.  Solitude  made 
her  sad  at  once,  for  she  found  herself  again  with  the  empty  feeling, 
and  the  tedium  of  her  own  society.  Very  gay  by  profession  and  by 
nature,  she  would  then  become  lugubrious,  and  would  constantly 
sum  up  her  life  in  this  cry,  between  two  yawns, 

"Oh!  how  men  bore  me!" 

One  afternoon,  as  she  was  returning  home  from  a  concert, 
Nana  noticed  a  woman  passing  along  the  Rue  Montmartre, 
with  boots  trodden  down  at  heel,  dirty  skirts,  and  a  bonnet  that 

£2783 


NANA 

had  evidently  been  frequently  soaked  with  rain.  All  of  a  sudden, 
she  recognised  her. 

"Stop,  Charles!"  cried  she  to  the  coachman,  and  then  called, 
"Satin!  Satin!" 

The  passers-by  turned  their  heads;  the  whole  street  looked  on. 
Satin  drew  near,  and  dirtied  herself  still  more  against  the  wheels 
of  the  carriage. 

"Jump  in,  my  girl,"  said  Nana  coolly,  not  caring  a  straw  for 
what  the  world  would  say. 

And  thus  she  picked  her  up  and  took  her  off,  disgustingly 
filthy  as  she  was,  in  the  light  blue  landau,  and  by  the  side  of  her 
pearl  grey  silk  dress  trimmed  with  Chantilly  lace;  whilst  every 
one  smiled  at  the  highly  dignified  air  of  the  coachman. 

From  that  time  Nana  had  a  passion  which  occupied  her.  Satin 
became  her  vice.  Installed  in  the  mansion  of  the  Avenue  de 
Villiers,  cleaned  and  clothed,  for  three  days  she  gave  her  expe- 
riences of  Saint-Lazare  —  all  the  troubles  she  had  had  with  the 
nuns,  and  those  dirty  policemen  who  had  put  her  on  their  list. 
Nana  became  very  indignant,  consoled  her,  and  swore  to  get  her 
out  of  the  mess,  even  though  she  had  to  see  the  minister  of  police 
herself.  For  the  moment,  however,  there  was  no  hurry;  they 
would  certainly  not  come  and  seek  her  there.  And  afternoons 
full  of  tenderness  commenced  between  the  two  women  —  caressing 
words  were  heard,  and  kisses  broken  with  suppressed  laughter. 
It  was  the  little  game,  interrupted  by  the  arrival  of  the  policemen 
at  the  Rue  de  Laval,  which  had  started  again  in  the  way  of  joke. 
Then  one  night  it  became  serious.  Nana,  who  was  so  disgusted 
at  Laure's,  now  began  to  understand.  She  was  quite  upset  and 
greatly  enraged;  the  more  so  as,  on  the  morning  of  the  fourth 
day,  Satin  disappeared.  No  one  had  seen  her  go  out.  She  had 
bolted  with  her  new  dress,  seized  with  a  longing  for  the  open  air, 
with  a  nostalgia  for  her  favourite  pavements. 

That  day  there  was  such  a  storm  in  the  house  that  all  the  ser- 
vants hung  down  their  heads  without  daring  to  say  a  word. 
Nana  had  almost  beaten  Francois  for  not  having  stood  in  front 
of  the  door.  She  tried,  however,  to  restrain  herself,  and  referred 
to  Satin  as  a  dirty  strumpet.  It  would  teach  her  not  to  pick- 
such  filth  out  of  the  gutter  another  time.  That  afternoon  madame 
shut  herself  in,  and  Zoe  heard  her  sobbing.  Then  in  the  evening 
she  suddenly  ordered  her  carriage  and  drove  to  Laure's.  The 


NANA 

idea  had  occurred  to  her  that  she  might  find  Satin  at  the  dining- 
place  of  the  Rue  des  Martyrs.  It  was  not  to  get  her  back  again, 
but  merely  to  slap  her  face.  And  it  happened  that  Satin  was  dining 
at  one  of  the  little  tables  with  Madame  Robert.  Seeing  Nana, 
she  laughed.  The  latter,  struck  to  the  heart,  did  not  create 
a  disturbance;  but  on  the  contrary  kept  very  quiet  and 
amiable.  She  stood  champagne,  and  made  a  number  of  women 
tipsy,  and  then  carried  off  Satin,  while  Madame  Robert  had 
left  the  room  for  a  moment;  but  when  she  had  got  her  in 
the  carriage,  she  bit  her,  and  threatened  to  kill  her  if  she  ran 
away  again. 

And  then  the  same  thing  kept  continually  occurring.  Twenty 
times  Nana,  tragical  in  her  fury  of  a  deceived  woman,  hastened 
after  the  hussy,  who  flew  off  simply  for  a  fad,  bored  with  the  com- 
fort of  the  grand  establishment.  She  talked  of  smacking  Madame 
Robert's  face;  one  day  she  even  had  the  idea  of  a  duel,  there 
was  one  too  many.  Now,  whenever  she  went  to  dine  at  Laure's, 
she  put  on  her  diamonds,  and  was  sometimes  accompanied 
by  Louis  Violaine,  Maria  Blond,  or  Tatan  Nene,  all  looking  very 
gorgeous,  and,  beneath  the  yellow  gas-light,  in  the  smell  of  eat- 
ables which  pervaded  the  three  rooms,  these  ladies  displayed  their 
luxury  in  very  questionable  company,  delighted  at  astonishing 
the  girls  of  the  neighbourhood,  whom  they  carried  off  with  them 
when  the  meal  was  over.  On  those  days,  Laure,  laced-up  and 
shining,  kissed  all  her  customers  with  a  more  maternal  air  than 
ever.  Satin,  however,  in  the  midst  of  all  this,  preserved  her 
calmness,  with  her  blue  eyes  and  her  pure  virgin-like  face;  bitten, 
beaten,  pulled  about  by  the  two  women,  she  merely  said  that  it 
was  funny,  and  that  they  would  have  done  far  better  to  have 
come  to  some  understanding  with  each  other.  It  was  no  use 
slapping  her;  she  could  not  cut  herself  in  two  in  spite  of  her  wish 
to  please  every  one.  At  last  Nana  carried  the  day,  having  be- 
stowed on  Satin  the  most  love  and  presents;  and,  by  way  of 
revenge,  Madame  Robert  wrote  some  most  abominable  anony- 
mous letters  to  her  rival's  lovers. 

For  some  little  time  past,  Count  Muffat  had  seemed  uneasy. 
One  morning,  in  a  very  agitated  state,  he  placed  under  Nana's 
eyes  an  anonymous  letter,  in  which  she  saw,  in  the  first  few  lines, 
that  she  was  accused  of  being  unfaithful  to  the  count  with 
Vandeuvres  and  the  two  Hugons. 

E  380:1 


NANA 

"It's  false!  it's  false!"  she  exclaimed  energetically,  with  an 
extraordinary  accent  of  truthfulness. 

"You  swear  it?"  asked  Muffat,  already  relieved. 

"Oh!  on  what  you  like  —  on  my  child's  head!" 

But  the  letter  was  long.  Afterwards  it  went  on  to  recount 
her  connection  with  Satin  in  the  most  ignoble  terms.  When  she 
reached  the  end  she  smiled. 

"Now  I  know  where  it  comes  from,"  said  she,  simply. 

And  as  Muffat  wished  for  a  denial  of  the  latter  part,  she  re- 
sumed coolly,  "That,  my  dear,  is  a  thing  which  does  not  concern 
you.  What  can  it  matter  to  you?" 

She  did  not  deny  it.  His  words  showed  his  disgust.  Then 
she  shrugged  her  shoulders.  Where  did  he  spring  from?  That 
sort  of  thing  happened  everywhere,  and  she  named  her  friends; 
she  even  swore  that  ladies  in  the  best  positions  were  no  strangers 
to  it.  In  short,  to  hear  her,  there  was  nothing  more  common  or 
more  natural.  What  was  not  true,  was  not  true;  he  had  seen, 
just  before,  how  indignant  she  was  about  Vandeuvres  and  the 
two  Hugons.  Ah!  had  that  been  true  he  would  have  done  right 
in  strangling  her.  But  what  was  the  use  of  telling  him  a  lie  about 
a  matter  of  no  consequence?  And  she  kept  repeating, 

"Come  now,  what  can  it  matter  to  you?" 

Then  as  he  continued  to  complain,  she  silenced  him,  saying 
in  a  rough  voice, 

"Well,  my  friend,  if  it  doesn't  please  you,  you  have  a  very 
simple  remedy.  The  doors  are  all  open.  You  must  either  take 
me  as  I  am,  or  leave  me  alone!" 

He  bowed  his  head.  In  his  heart  he  was  pleased  with  the 
young  woman's  protestations.  She,  seeing  her  power,  no  longer 
hesitated  employing  it;  and  from  that  time  Satin  was  openly 
installed  as  part  of  the  establishment,  on  the  same  footing  as 
the  gentlemen.  Vandeuvres  had  not  required  the  anonymous 
letter  to  understand  what  was  going  on.  He  joked  about  it,  and 
had  little  quarrels  of  jealousy  with  Satin;  whilst  Philippe  and 
George  treated  her  as  a  comrade,  shaking  hands  with  her  and 
saying  some  very  equivocal  things. 

Nana  had  an  adventure.  One  night,  having  been  abandoned 
by  the  hussy,  she  had  gone  to  dine  in  the  Rue  des  Martyrs, 
without  being  able  to  come  across  her.  While  she  was  eating 
alone,  Daguenet  made  his  appearance.  Though  he  had  settled 


NANA 

down,  he  came  there  occasionally  —  his  old  vices  getting  the 
better  of  him  —  trusting  not  to  meet  any  of  his  friends  in  those 
dark  corners  of  Parisian  abomination.  Consequently,  Nana's 
presence  seemed  rather  to  put  him  out  at  first;  but  he  was  not 
the  man  to  beat  a  retreat.  He  advanced  smiling.  He  asked  if 
madame  would  permit  him  to  dine  at  her  table.  Seeing  him  in- 
clined to  joke,  Nana  put  on  her  grand  cold  air,  and  sharply  replied, 

"Seat  yourself  wherever  you  please,  sir.  We  are  in  a  public 
place." 

Commenced  in  this  style,  the  conversation  became  very  funny; 
but  when  the  dessert  was  served,  Nana,  feeling  bored,  and  burn- 
ing to  triumph,  put  her  elbows  on  the  table,  and  then  resumed  her 
old  familiar  way. 

"Well,  and  your  marriage,  my  boy;    how  is  it  getting  on?" 

"Not  very  well,"  admitted  Daguenet. 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  when  about  to  venture  to  ask  for  the 
young  lady's  hand,  he  had  encountered  such  a  coldness  on  the 
count's  part  that  he  had  prudently  abstained  from  doing  so. 
It  seemed  to  him  that  it  was  all  up.  Nana  looked  him  straight 
in  the  face  with  her  bright  eyes,  her  chin  in  her  hand,  an  ironic 
smile  on  her  lips. 

"Ah!  so  I'm  a  hussy!"  she  resumed  slowly.  "Ah!  so  you 
must  deliver  the  future  father-in-law  from  my  clutches.  Well, 
really!  for  an  intelligent  fellow,  you're  a  damned  fool!  What! 
you  go  and  say  a  lot  of  nasty  things  to  a  man  who  adores  me 
and  who  tells  me  everything!  Listen;  your  marriage  will  come 
off  if  I  choose,  my  boy." 

For  a  few  minutes  he  had  been  of  the  same  opinion;  a  pro- 
ject of  complete  submission  was  forming  in  his  mind.  However, 
he  continued  to  joke,  not  wishing  to  let  the  matter  become  a 
serious  one;  and  after  putting  on  his  gloves,  he  asked  her,  in 
the  most  correct  manner,  for  the  hand  of  Mademoiselle  Estelle 
de  Beuville.  She  ended  by  laughing,  as  though  being  tickled. 
Oh!  that  Mimi!  it  was  impossible  to  be  angry  with  him.  Dague- 
net's  great  successes  with  the  ladies  were  due  to  the  softness 
of  his  voice  —  a  voice  of  a  musical  purity  and  suppleness,  which 
had  caused  him  to  be  nicknamed  among  the  gay  women  Velvet 
Mouth.  All  yielded  beneath  the  sonorous  caress  with  which 
he  enveloped  them.  He  knew  his  power,  so  he  lulled  her  with 
an  endless  string  of  words,  telling  her  all  sorts  of  stupid  stones. 

C2823 


NANA 

When  they  quitted  the  table  she  was  quite  rosy,  trembling  on 
his  arm,  reconquered.  As  the  day  was  very  fine,  she  dismissed 
her  carnage,  and  accompanied  him  on  foot  as  far  as  his  lodging; 
then  naturally  she  went  in  with  him.  Two  hours  later  she  said, 
as  she  was  putting  on  her  things  again, 

"So,  Mimi,  you  want  this  marriage  to  come  off?" 

"Well,"  he  murmured,  "it's  the  best  thing  I  can  do.  You 
know  I'm  quite  stumped." 

After  a  short  silence  she  resumed,  "All  right,  I'm  willing; 
I'll  help  you.  You  know  she's  as  dry  as  a  faggot;  but  never 
mind,  as  you're  all  agreeable.  Oh!  I'm  obliging;  I'll  settle  it 
for  you."  Then,  bursting  out  laughing,  her  bosom  still  uncovered, 
she  added,  "Only  what  will  you  give  me?" 

He  had  seized  hold  of  her,  and  was  kissing  her  shoulders  in 
a  transport  of  gratitude.  She,  very  gay,  quivering,  struggled 
and  threw  herself  back. 

"Ah!  I  know,"  she  exclaimed,  excited  by  this  play.  "Listen! 
This  is  what  I  must  have  for  my  commission.  On  your  wedding- 
day  you  must  bring  me  the  handsel  of  your  innocence,  you  under- 
stand!" 

"That's  it!  that's  it!"  said  he,  laughing  even  more  than  she 
did.  The  bargain  amused  them.  They  thought  it  very  funny. 

It  so  happened  that  on  the  morrow  there  was  a  dinner  party 
at  Nana's,  that  is,  the  usual  Thursday  gathering  —  Muffat, 
Vandeuvres,  the  two  Hugons,  and  Satin.  The  count  arrived 
early.  He  was  in  want  of  eighty  thousand  francs  to  rid  the  young 
woman  of  two  or  three  debts,  and  to  present  her  with  a  set  of 
sapphires  for  which  she  had  a  great  longing.  As  he  had  already 
eaten  considerably  into  his  fortune,  he  wished  to  meet  with  a 
money-lender,  not  yet  daring  to  sell  a  portion  of  his  estates.  So, 
by  Nana's  advice,  he  had  applied  to  Labordette;  but  the  latter, 
considering  it  too  big  a  matter  for  himself,  had  desired  to  speak 
of  it  to  the  hairdresser,  Francis,  who  was  always  willing  to  be 
useful  to  his  customers.  The  count  placed  himself  in  the  hands 
of  these  gentlemen,  merely  requesting  that  his  name  should  not 
be  mentioned.  They  both  agreed  to  keep  his  acceptance  for  one 
hundred  thousand  francs  in  their  possession,  and  they  excused 
themselves  for  the  twenty  thousand  francs  of  interest  by  railing 
against  the  swindling  usurers,  to  whom,  as  they  said,  they  had 
been  forced  to  apply.  When  Muffat  was  ushered  in,  Francis 

£283:1 


NANA 

was  just  finishing  Nana's  head-dress.  Labordette  was  also  in 
the  dressing-room,  in  his  familiar  fashion  of  a  friend  of  no  con- 
sequence. On  seeing  the  count  he  discreetly  placed  a  heavy 
bundle  of  bank-notes  among  the  powders  and  the  pomades,  and 
the  bill  was  accepted  on  a  corner  of  the  marble  dressing-table. 
Nana  wished  Labordette  to  remain  to  dinner,  but  he  declined, 
as  he  was  showing  a  rich  foreigner  about  Paris.  However,  Muffat 
having  taken  him  on  one  side  to  beg  him  to  go  to  Becker's,  the 
jeweller,  and  bring  him  back  the  set  of  sapphires,  which  he  wished 
to  have  as  a  surprise  for  the  young  woman  that  very  night,  Labor- 
dette, willingly  undertook  the  commission.  Half  an  hour  later, 
Julien  privately  handed  the  count  the  case  of  jewels. 

During  dinner  Nana  was  very  nervous.  The  sight  of  the  eighty 
thousand  francs  had  upset  her.  To  think  that  all  that  money 
was  going  to  be  paid  away  to  tradespeople!  It  annoyed  her  im- 
mensely. As  soon  as  the  soup  was  served  in  that  superb  dining- 
room,  illuminated  with  the  reflection  of  the  silver  plate  and  the 
crystal  ware,  she  became  sentimental,  and  began  to  praise  the 
joys  of  poverty.  The  men  were  in  evening  dress.  She  herself, 
wore  a  dress  of  embroidered  white  satin,  whilst  Satin,  more  modest, 
and  in  black  silk,  had  merely  a  golden  heart  —  a  present  from  her 
darling  friend  —  at  her  throat;  and  behind  the  guests  Julien  and 
Francois  waited,  assisted  by  Zoe,  all  three  looking  very  dignified. 

"I  certainly  amused  myself  a  great  deal  more  when  I  was 
without  a  sou/'  Nana  kept  repeating. 

She  had  Muffat  on  her  right  and  Vandeuvres  on  her  left  but 
she  scarcely  looked  at  them,  being  entirely  occupied  with  Satin, 
enthroned  in  front  of  her  between  Philippe  and  George. 

"Eh,  my  love?"  she  said  at  each  phrase.  "Didn't  we  use  to 
laugh  at  that  time,  when  we  went  to  old  mother  Josse's  school, 
in  the  Rue  Polonceau?" 

They  were  then  serving  the  roast.  The  two  women  launched 
forth  into  recollections  of  their  young  days.  They  every  now 
and  then  had  a  longing  for  gossip,  a  sudden  desire  to  stir  up  all 
the  mud  of  their  youth;  and  it  was  invariably  when  men  were 
present,  as  though  yielding  to  a  mania  for  making  them  acquainted 
with  the  dungheap  whence  they  sprouted.  The  gentlemen  turned 
pale,  and  glanced  about  in  an  embarrassed  manner.  The  two 
Hugons  tried  to  laugh,  whilst  Vandeuvres  nervously  twirled  his 
beard,  and  Muffat  looked  more  solemn  than  ev^r. 

£284:1 


NANA 

"  Do  you  remember  Victor?  "  asked  Nana.  "  He  was  a  depraved 
youngster;  he  used  to  take  little  girls  into  the  cellars!" 

"I  remember,"  replied  Satin.  "And  I  remember,  too,  the  big 
courtyard  at  your  place.  There  was  a  doorkeeper  with  a  broom  — " 

"Mother  Boche;   she  is  dead." 

"And  I  can  still  see  your  shop.  Your  mother  was  awfully 
stout.  One  night  when  we  were  playing,  your  father  came  home 
drunk,  oh!  so  drunk!" 

At  this  moment  Vandeuvres  essayed  a  diversion,  by  inter- 
rupting the  ladies  in  the  midst  of  their  reminiscences. 

"  I  say,  my  dear,  I  should  like  some  more  truffles  —  they  are 
excellent.  I  had  some  yesterday  at  the  Duke  de  Corbreuse's, 
which  were  not  to  be  compared  to  these." 

"Julien,  hand  the  truffles!"  said  Nana  roughly.  Then  she 
resumed.  "Ah,  yes!  papa  was  very  foolish.  What  a  tumble- 
down! Ah!  if  you  had  only  seen  it  — a  regular  plunge,  such  misery! 
I  can  well  say  that  I  have  tasted  of  all  sorts,  and  it's  a  miracle  I 
didn't  leave  my  carcass  there,  the  same  as  papa  and  mamma." 

This  time  Muffat,  who  had  been  nervously  playing  with  a 
knife,  ventured  to  interfere. 

"It  is  not  a  very  amusing  subject  you  are  talking  about." 

"Eh?  what?  not  amusing?"  exclaimed  she,  crushing  him  with 
a  look.  "I  don't  suppose  it  is  amusing!  You  should  have  sent 
us  some  bread,  my  dear.  Oh!  as  you  know  I'm  a  true-hearted 
girl,  I  say  what  I  think.  Mamma  was  a  washerwoman,  papa 
used  to  get  drunk,  and  he  died  from  it.  There!  if  that  doesn't 
suit  you,  if  you're  ashamed  of  my  family  — " 

They  all  protested.  What  was  she  thinking  of?  They  re- 
spected her  family.  But  she  continued: 

"If  you're  ashamed  of  my  family,  well,  leave  me;  for  I'm  not 
one  of  those  women  who  disown  their  father  and  mother.  You 
must  take  me  with  them,  do  you  hear?" 

They  took  her  —  they  accepted  the  father  and  the  mother,  the 
past,  everything  she  wished.  With  their  eyes  fixed  on  the  table- 
cloth, they  all  four  now  made  themselves  small,  whilst  she  kept 
them  beneath  her  muddy  old  shoes,  of  the  Rue  de  la  Goutte  d'Or, 
with  the  passion  of  her  all-powerful  will.  And  she  was  slow  to  lay 
down  her  arms.  They  might  bring  her  no  end  of  fortunes,  build 
her  innumerable  palaces,  still  she  would  ever  regret  the  time  when 
she  used  to  chew  apples  with  the  peel  on.  It  was  a  fraud,  that 

£2853 


NANA 

idiotic  money!  it  was  only  invented  for  tradespeople.  Then  her 
outburst  ended  in  a  sentimental  longing  for  a  simple  way  of  liv- 
ing, with  one's  heart  in  one's  hand,  in  the  midst  of  an  universal 
benevolence. 

But  at  that  moment  she  caught  sight  of  Julien  standing  with 
his  arms  hanging  by  his  sides,  and  doing  nothing. 

"Well!  what?  Pour  out  the  champagne,"  said  she.  "Why 
are  you  looking  at  me  like  a  silly  gander?" 

During  the  row  the  servants  had  not  even  smiled.  They  seemed 
not  to  hear,  becoming  more  majestic  the  more  madame  forgot  her- 
self. Julien  poured  out  the  champagne  without  flinching.  Un- 
fortunately, Franfois,  who  was  handing  round  the  fruit,  held  the 
dish  too  much  on  one  side,  and  the  apples,  the  pears,  the  grapes, 
rolled  all  over  the  table. 

"Stupid  fool!"  cried  Nana. 

The  footman  made  the  mistake  of  trying  to  explain  that  the 
fruit  was  not  placed  securely  on  the  dish.  Zoe  had  disturbed  it 
in  removing  some  oranges. 

"Then,"  said  Nana,  "Zoe's  a  fool." 

"But,  madame — "  murmured  the  maid,  very  much  hurt. 

At  this  madame  rose,  and  with  a  gesture  of  royal  authority 
said  curtly,  "That's  enough,  I  think!  Leave  the  room,  all  of 
you!  We  no  longer  require  you." 

This  execution  calmed  her.  She  at  once  became  very  quiet 
and  very  amiable.  The  dessert  passed  off  most  pleasantly;  and 
gentlemen  were  greatly  amused  at  having  to  help  themselves. 
But  Satin,  who  had  peeled  a  pear,  went  to  eat  it  standing  up 
behind  her  darling,  leaning  against  her  shoulders,  and  whispering 
things  in  her  ear  which  made  them  both  laugh  very  much;  then 
she  wished  to  share  her  last  piece  of  pear,  and  held  it  out  to  Nana 
between  her  teeth,  and  their  lips  touched  as  they  finished  the  fruit 
in  a  kiss.  This  produced  a  comical  protest  from  the  gentlemen. 
Philippe  called  to  them  not  to  stand  on  ceremony.  Vandeuvres 
asked  if  they  would  like  him  to  leave  the  room.  George  went  and 
took  hold  of  Satin  round  the  waist  and  led  her  back  to  her  seat. 

"How  silly  you  are!"  said  Nana,  "you  make  the  little  darling 
blush.  Never  mind,  my  love,  don't  take  any  notice  of  them. 
That's  our  business."  And,  turning  towards  Muffat,  who  was 
looking  on  in  his  solemn  way,  she  added,  "Isn't  it,  dear?" 

"Yes,  certainly,"  murmured  he,  slowly  nodding  his  head. 

C286] 


NANA 

There  were  no  more  protests.  In  the  midst  of  these  gentlemen, 
of  these  great  names,  these  ancient  integrities,  the  two  women, 
seated  in  front  of  each  other,  exchanging  tender  glances,  imposed 
themselves,  and  reigned  with  the  cool  abuse  of  their  sex  and  their 
avowed  contempt  for  man.  They  applauded. 

The  coffee  was  served  upstairs  in  the  parlour.  Two  lamps 
lighted  up  with  their  feeble  light  the  rose-colour  hangings,  the 
lacquer  and  old  gold  knick-knacks.  There  was  at  this  hour  of  the 
night,  in  the  midst  of  the  caskets,  the  bronzes,  the  china  a  discreet 
glimmer  which  illumined  the  gold  and  ivory  incrustations,  shone 
on  the  gloss  of  some  carved  wand,  and  watered  a  panel  with  a 
silky  reflex.  The  afternoon  fire  had  burnt  low,  it  was  very  warm, 
a  debilitating  heat  was  confined  by  the  heavy  curtains  and  hang- 
ings. And  in  this  room,  all  full  of  Nana's  private  life,  where  her 
gloves,  a  handkerchief,  an  open  book,  lay  scattered  about,  one 
met  her  free  from  all  ceremony,  with  her  odour  of  violets,  her 
jolly-girl  kind  of  disorder,  creating  a  charming  effect  amongst 
all  that  wealth;  whilst  the  easy-chairs  as  big  as  beds,  and  the 
sofas  as  deep  as  alcoves,  seemed  to  invite  to  somnolence,  forget- 
ful of  the  flight  of  time,  to  sweet  words  whispered  in  the  shadows 
of  their  corners. 

Satin  went  and  stretched  herself  out  on  a  sofa  near  the  fire- 
place. She  lit  a  cigarette;  but  Vandeuvres  amused  himself  with 
pretending  to  be  awfully  jealous  of  her,  and  threatened  to  challenge 
her  if  she  again  turned  Nana  from  her  duties.  Philippe  and 
George  joined  in,  teased  her,  and  pinched  her  so  hard,  that  she 
ended  by  crying  out, 

"Darling!  darling!  do  make  them  leave  off!  They're  annoying 
me  again." 

"Come,  leave  her  alone,"  said  Nana  seriously.  "You  know 
I  won't  have  her  teased;  and  you,  my  deary,  why  do  you  always 
go  with  them,  when  you  know  they  are  so  foolish?" 

Satin,  very  red  in  the  face,  and  putting  out  her  tongue,  went 
into  the  dressing-room,  the  open  door  of  which  showed  the  pale 
marble  lighted  up  by  the  subdued  flame  of  a  gas-jet  enclosed  in 
.a  ground-glass  globe.  Then  Nana  conversed  with  the  four  men, 
with  the  charm  pertaining  to  the  mistress  of  a  household.  She 
had  been  reading  during  the  day  a  novel  that  had  created  a  great 
sensation  —  the  history  of  a  courtesan;  and  she  was  disgusted. 
She  said  that  it  was  all  false,  showing,  besides,  an  indignant 

£287:1 


NANA 

repugnance  for  such  filthy  literature,  which  had  the  pretension  of 
being  true  to  nature,  as  though  one  could  describe  everything, 
as  though  a  novel  ought  not  to  be  written  just  to  while  away  a 
pleasant  hour!  Regarding  books  and  plays,  Nana  had  very  fixed 
opinions.  She  wished  for  noble  and  tender  works  —  things  to  set 
her  thinking  and  to  elevate  her  soul.  Then  the  conversation  having 
turned  on  the  troubles  that  were  agitating  Paris  —  on  the  in- 
cendiary newspaper  articles,  the  attempts  at  riot  following  the 
calls  to  arms  enunciated  every  night  at  public  meetings  —  she 
vented  her  wrath  on  the  Republicans.  Whatever  did  they  want, 
those  dirty  fellows  who  never  washed  themselves?  Wasn't  every 
one  happy?  Hadn't  the  Emperor  done  everything  for  the  people? 
A  lot  of  swine,  these  people !  She  knew  them  —  she  could  speak 
of  them;  and  forgetting  the  respect  she  had  just  exacted  at  the 
dinner-table  for  her  little  \\orld  of  the  Rue  de  la  Goutte  d'Or,  she 
assailed  her  relations  and  friends  of  bygone  days  with  all  the  dis- 
gust and  the  horror  of  a  woman  arrived  at  the  top  of  the  tree. 
It  so  happened  that  very  afternoon  she  had  read  in  the  "Figaro" 
the  report  of  a  public  n  eeting  written  in  a  most  comical  style, 
and  the  recollection  of  which  still  made  her  laugh,  on  account  of 
the  slang  words  used,  and  the  description  of  a  disgusting  drunkard 
who  had  been  turned  out. 

"Oh!  those  drunkards!"  said  she  with  an  air  of  repugnance. 
"No,  really  now,  their  Republic  would  be  a  great  misfortune 
for  every  one.  Ah!  may  God  preserve  the  Emperor  as  long  as 
possible!" 

"God  will  hear  you,  my  dear,"  solemnly  replied  Muffat.  "But 
never  fear  —  the  Emperor  is  strong." 

He  liked  to  see  that  she  had  such  good  feelings.  They  were 
both  of  the  same  opinion  in  politics.  Vandeuvres  and  Lieutenant 
Hugon  were  also  full  of  jokes  about  the  "roughs"  —  braying  asses 
who  bolted  at  the  sight  of  a  bayonet.  George  that  night  remained 
pale  and  gloomy. 

"What's  the  matter  with  the  baby?"  asked  Nana,  noticing 
how  quiet  he  was. 

"Nothing,  I'm  listening,"  murmured  he. 

But  he  was  suffering.  On  leaving  the  dining-room  he  had 
overheard  Philippe  joking  with  the  young  woman,  and  now  it 
was  Philippe  and  not  he  who  was  seated  beside  her.  His  chest 
heaved  and  seemed  ready  to  burst,  without  his  knowing  why. 

C2883 


NANA 

He  could  not  bear  them  to  be  together.  He  had  such  wicked 
thoughts  that  a  lump  rose  in  his  throat,  and  he  felt  ashamed  in 
spite  of  his  anguish.  He,  who  laughed  about  Satin,  who  had 
endured  Steiner,  then  MufFat,  then  all  the  others,  revolted,  and 
became  enraged  at  the  idea  that  Philippe  might  one  day  become 
that  woman's  lover. 

"Here!  take  Bijou,"  said  she  to  console  him,  passing  him  the 
little  dog,  which  was  sleeping  on  her  lap.  And  George  became 
quite  lively  again,  holding  something  belonging  to  her  —  that 
animal  full  of  the  warmth  of  her  knees. 

The  conversation  had  fallen  on  a  run  of  bad  luck  Vandeuvres 
had  had  the  night  before  at  the  Cercle  Imperial.  Muffat,  who  was 
no  player,  expressed  his  surprise;  but  Vandeuvres,  smiling,  alluded 
to  his  approaching  ruin,  of  which  Paris  already  had  begun  to  talk. 
It  did  not  matter  much  how  the  end  came,  the  thing  was  to  end 
well.  For  some  time  past  Nana  had  noticed  he  was  nervous,  with 
wrinkles  at  the  corners  of  his  mouth,  and  a  vacillating  look  in 
his  bright  eyes.  He  retained  his  aristocratic  haughtiness,  the 
refined  elegance  of  his  impoverished  race;  and,  as  yet,  it  was 
only  a  slight  vertigo  at  times,  beneath  that  cranium  emptied  by 
women  and  play.  One  night  that  he  passed  with  her  he  had 
frightened  her  with  some  atrocious  idea.  He  was  thinking  of 
shutting  himself  up  in  his  stable  with  his  horses  and  setting  fire 
to  the  place,  when  he  had  reached  the  end  of  his  tether.  At  this 
time  his  only  hope  was  in  a  horse  named  Lusignan,  which  was  in 
training  for  the  Grand  Prize  of  Paris.  He  lived  on  this  horse, 
which  sustained  his  damaged  credit.  Every  time  Nana  wanted 
money,  he  put  her  off  till  the  month  of  June,  if  Lusignan  won. 

"Bah!"  said  she,  jokingly,  "he  can  afford  to  lose,  as  he  is  going 
to  clear  every  one  out  at  the  races." 

He  merely  replied  with  a  mysterious  little  smile,  then  added 
lightly,  "  By  the  way,  I  have  taken  the  liberty  of  naming  a  filly 
of  mine,  only  an  outsider,  after  you.  Nana,  Nana;  it  sounds  very 
well.  You  are  not  annoyed?" 

"Annoyed  — why?"  said  she,  in  reality  greatly  delighted. 

The  conversation  continued.  They  were  talking  of  an  execution 
shortly  to  take  place,  and  which  the  young  woman  wanted  to  see, 
when  Satin  appeared  at  the  dressingroom  door,  and  called  Nana 
in  a  supplicating  voice.  The  latter  rose  at  once  and  left  the 
gentlemen,  who  were  taking  their  ease,  puffing  their  cigars,  and 


NANA 

discussing  a  very  grave  question,  as  to  how  far  a  murderer  in  a 
chronic  state  of  alcoholism  is  responsible  for  his  actions.  In  the 
dressing-room  Zoe  was  seated  on  a  chair,  crying  bitterly,  whilst 
Satin  was  vainly  endeavouring  to  console  her. 

"What's  the  matter?"  asked  Nana,  in  surprise. 

"Oh,  darling!  speak  to  her,"  said  Satin.  "For  the  last  twenty 
minutes  I've  been  trying  to  reason  with  her.  She's  crying  because 
you  called  her  a  fool." 

"Yes,  madame  —  it's  very  hard  —  it's  very  hard  — "  stuttered 
Zoe,  almost  choked  by  a  fresh  fit  of  sobbing. 

This  sight  moved  the  young  woman.  She  said  some  kind  words; 
and  as  the  other  did  not  become  calmer,  she  sat  down  before  her, 
and  put  her  arm  round  her  waist,  with  a  gesture  of  affectionate 
familiarity. 

"But,  you  silly  girl!  I  said  'fool'  just  the  same  as  I  should  have 
said  something  else!  I  didn't  mean  it!  I  was  in  a  passion.  There! 
I  was  wrong.  Now  do  leave  off  crying." 

"I  love  madame  so  much,"  stammered  Zoe.  "After  all  that  I 
have  done  for  madame." 

Then  Nana  kissed  the  maid.  After  which,  wishing  to  show 
that  she  was  not  angry,  she  gave  her  a  dress  that  she  had  worn  only 
three  times.  Their  quarrels  always  ended  in  presents.  Zoe 
wiped  her  eyes  with  her  handkerchief,  and  before  carrying  the 
dress  off  on  her  arm,  she  said  that  they  were  all  very  sad  down  in 
the  kitchen,  that  Julien  and  Francois  had  not  been  able  to  eat 
any  dinner,  as  madame's  anger  had  taken  away  all  their  appetite. 
And  madame  sent  them  a  louis  as  a  pledge  of  reconciliation.  She 
could  not  bear  to  see  any  one  unhappy. 

Nana  returned  to  the  drawing-room,  happy  at  having  put  an 
end  to  the  tiff,  which  was  causing  her  some  anxiety  for  the  morrow, 
when  Satin  whispered  quickly  in  her  ear.  She  complained,  she 
threatened  to  go  away,  if  those  men  teased  her  again;  and  she  in- 
sisted on  her  darling  sending  them  all  off  that  night.  It  would  be 
a  lesson  for  them.  And  then  it  would  be  so  nice  to  be  alone  together ! 
Nana,  again  becoming  anxious,  swore  that  it  was  not  possible. 
Then  the  other  spoke  harshly  to  her,  like  a  passionate  child  in- 
sisting on  having  her  way. 

"I  insist  on  it,  do  you  hear?  Send  them  away,  or  else  I'll 
go!"  And  she  returned  into  the  drawing-room,  and  lay  down  on 
a  sofa,  away  from  the  others  and  near  a  window,  where  she  re- 


NANA 

mained  quite  silent  and  as  though  dead,  waiting  with  her  large 
eyes  fixed  on  Nana. 

The  gentlemen  were  drawing  their  conclusions  against  the  new 
theories  of  the  writers  on  criminal  law;  with  that  wonderful  prop- 
osition as  to  irresponsibility  in  certain  pathological  cases,  there 
threatened  to  be  no  more  criminals,  but  only  invalids.  The 
young  woman,  who  kept  nodding  her  approval,  was  trying  to 
think  of  a  means  of  getting  rid  of  the  count.  The  others  would 
soon  be  going,  but  he  would  be  sure  to  remain  behind.  And  so 
it  happened,  when  Philippe  rose  to  leave,  George  followed  him 
at  once,  his  only  anxiety  was  not  to  leave  his  brother  behind  him. 
Vandeuvres  remained  a  few  minutes  longer ;  he  sounded  the  ground; 
he  waited  to  see  if  by  chance  some  matter  did  not  oblige  Muffat 
to  leave  him  in  possession,  but  when  he  saw  him  evidently  making 
himself  comfortable  for  the  rest  of  the  evening,  he  did  not  persist, 
but  took  his  leave  like  a  man  of  tact.  But  as  he  moved  towards 
the  door  he  noticed  Satin,  with  her  fixed  look;  and  understanding 
no  doubt,  and  rather  amused,  he  went  and  shook  her  hand. 

"Well,  we're  not  angry,  are  we?"  murmured  he.  "Forgive  me. 
On  my  word,  you're  the  best  of  us  after  all!" 

Satin  disdained  to  reply.  She  did  not  take  her  eyes  off  Nana 
and  the  count,  who  were  now  left  to  themselves.  Being  no  longer 
under  any  restraint,  Muffat  had  gone  and  seated  himself  beside 
the  young  woman,  and  had  taken  hold  of  her  fingers,  which  he 
was  kissing.  Then  she,  to  create  a  diversion,  asked  him  if  his 
daughter  Estelle  was  better.  The  night  before  he  had  complained 
that  the  child  seemed  very  melancholy;  he  could  never  spend  a 
happy  day  in  his  own  home,  with  his  wife  always  out  and  his 
daughter  wrapped  up  in  an  icy  silence.  Nana  was  always  full  of 
good  advice  respecting  these  family  matters.  And  as  Muffat, 
his  mind  and  his  body  upset,  began  again  giving  way  to  his 
lamentations, 

"Why  don't  you  get  her  married?"  asked  she,  recollecting  her 
promise. 

And  she  at  once  ventured  to  speak  of  Daguenet.  But,  at  the 
mention  of  the  name,  the  count  showed  his  disgust.  Never,  after 
what  she  had  told  him!  She  pretended  to  be  greatly  surprised, 
then  burst  out  laughing,  and  putting  her  arms  round  his  neck,  said, 

"Oh!  how  can  you  be  so  jealous?  Do  be  reasonable.  He  had 
been  talking  to  you  against  me,  and  I  was  furious.  To-day  I 


NANA 

am  really  sorry  — "  But  over  Muffat's  shoulder  she  encountered 
Satin's  fixed  gaze.  Feeling  uneasy,  she  let  go  of  him,  and  con- 
tinued in  a  serious  tone,  "My  friend,  this  marriage  must  take 
place;  I  don't  wish  to  prevent  your  daughter's  happiness.  He's 
really  a  very  nice  young  man,  you  couldn't  find  a  better  one." 

And  she  launched  forth  into  unbounded  praise  of  Daguenet. 
The  count  had  taken  hold  of  her  hands  again;  he  no  longer  said, 
"no,"  he  would  see,  they  could  talk  of  it  another  time.  Then 
as  he  spoke  of  going  to  bed,  she  lowered  her  voice  and  made 
objections.  It  was  impossible,  she  was  not  well;  if  he  loved  her 
a  little  he  would  not  insist.  However,  he  was  obstinate,  he  would 
not  leave,  and  she  was  already  giving  in  when  she  again  encountered 
Satin's  fixed  look.  Then  she  became  inflexible.  No,  it  could  not 
be.  The  count,  much  affected,  and  looking  far  from  well,  had  risen 
and  was  seeking  his  hat.  But  at  the  door  he  recollected  the  set 
of  sapphires,  the  case  containing  which  he  felt  in  his  pocket. 
He  had  intended  hiding  it  at  the  bottom  of  the  bed,  so  that  her 
legs  might  come  in  contact  with  it  when  she  first  got  in;  it  was  a 
big  child's  surprise,  which  he  had  been  planning  ever  since  dinner. 
And,  in  his  confusion,  in  his  anguish  at  being  thus  dismissed,  he 
abruptly  handed  her  the  jewels. 

"What  is  it?"  asked  she.  "Why!  sapphires.  Ah!  yes,  that 
set  we  saw.  How  kind  of  you!  But,  I  say,  darling,  do  you  think 
it's  the  same  one?  It  looked  better  in  the  window!" 

Those  were  all  the  thanks  he  had;  she  let  him  go.  He  had  just 
caught  sight  of  Satin  waiting  in  silence  on  the  sofa.  Then  he 
looked  at  the  two  women ;  and,  no  longer  persisting,  he  submissively 
went  off.  The  house  door  was  scarcely  closed  when  Satin  seized 
hold  of  Nana  round  the  waist,  and  danced  and  sang.  Then,  run- 
ning to  the  window,  she  exclaimed: 

"Let's  see  what  a  fool  he  looks  outside!" 

In  the  shadow  of  the  curtains,  the  two  women  leant  on  the  iron 
rail.  One  o'clock  struck.  The  Avenue  de  Villiers,  now  deserted, 
stretched  far  in  the  distance,  with  its  double  row  of  gas-lamps,  in 
the  midst  of  that  damp  darkness  of  March,  swept  by  great  gusts 
of  wind  full  of  rain.  Patches  of  unoccupied  ground  appeared  as 
masses  of  shadow;  houses  in  course  of  construction  displayed  their 
tall  scaffoldings  beneath  the  black  sky.  And  a  mad  fit  of  laughter 
seized  the  two  girls  as  they  caught  sight  of  Muffat's  round  back 
moving  along  the  wet  pavement,  with  the  mournful  reflection 


NANA 

of  his  shadow,  across  that  icy,  empty  plain  of  a  new  Paris.  But 
Nana  made  Satin  leave  off. 

"Take  care  —  the  police!" 

Then  they  smothered  their  laughter,  watching  with  a  dumb 
fear  two  black  figures  walking  in  step  on  the  other  side  of  the 
Avenue.  Nana,  in  all  her  luxury  —  in  her  royalty  of  a  woman 
whom  every  one  obeyed  —  had  preserved  a  dread  of  the  police, 
not  liking  to  hear  them  spoken  of  any  more  than  she  did  death. 
She  felt  uneasy  whenever  she  saw  a  policeman  look  up  at  her 
house.  One  never  knew  what  to  expect  from  such  people.  They 
might  very  well  take  them  for  some  low  gay  women,  if  they  heard 
them  laughing  at  that  time  of  the  night.  Satin  tremblingly  pressed 
close  up  against  Nana.  Yet  they  remained  there,  interested  by 
the  approach  of  a  light  dancing  in  the  midst  of  the  puddles  on  the 
pavement.  It  was  the  lantern  of  an  old  female  rag-picker  who 
was  searching  the  gutters.  Satin  recognised  her. 

"Why!"  said  she,  "it's  Queen  Pomare  with  her  wicker  cash- 
mere!"' 

And  whilst  the  wind  beat  the  fine  rain  in  their  faces,  she  told 
her  darling  Queen  Pomare's  history.  Oh!  she  was  a  superb 
woman  once,  and  drove  all  Paris  mad  with  her  beauty.  She 
had  such  go,  such  cheek,  used  the  men  like  animals,  and  often 
had  grand  personages  weeping  on  her  stairs!  Now,  she  had 
taken  to  drink,  the  women  of  the  neighbourhood  amused  them- 
selves by  giving  her  absinthe;  and  in  the  streets  the  urchins 
followed  her,  throwing  stones  —  in  short,  a  regular  smash-up  —  a 
queen  fallen  into  the  mire!  Nana  listened,  feeling  very  cold. 

"You'll  just  see,"  added  Satin. 

She  whistled  like  a  man.  The  rag-picker,  who  was  under  the 
window,  raised  her  head  and  showed  herself  in  the  yellow  light 
of  her  lantern.  There  appeared  in  that  bundle  of  rags,  beneath  a 
big  handkerchief  in  tatters,  a  scarred,  bluish  face,  with  the  tooth- 
less aperture  of  the  mouth  and  the  flaming  loopholes  of  the  eyes; 
and  Nana,  in  front  of  this  frightful  old  age  of  a  courtesan  drowned 
in  alcohol,  beheld  in  the  darkness  the  vision  of  Chamont  —  that 
Irma  d'Anglars,  the  retired  prostitute  loaded  with  years  and  with 
honours,  ascending  the  steps  of  her  chateau,  surrounded  by  a 
prostrate  crowd  of  villagers.  Then  as  Satin  whistled  again,  amused 
at  the  old  hag  who  could  not  see  her,  she  murmured  in  an  altered 
tone  of  voice, 

£293:1 


NANA 

*' Leave  off  —  the  police  again!  Let's  go  away,  quick,  my  dar- 
ling." 

The  sound  of  footsteps  returned.  They  closed  the  window. 
On  turning  round,  Nana,  shivering  and  with  her  hair  all  wet, 
on  beholding  the  room,  remained,  as  it  were,  struck  with  aston- 
ishment, as  though  she  had  never  seen  it  before  and  had  entered 
some  unknown  place.  She  found  the  atmosphere  so  warm,  so 
perfumed,  that  she  experienced  a  pleasant  surprise.  The  wealth 
piled  up  around  the  ancient  furniture,  the  gold  and  silk  stuffs, 
the  ivory,  the  bronzes,  all  seemed  reposing  in  the  rosy  light  of 
the  lamps;  whilst  from  the  now  hushed  house  there  arose  the 
sensation  of  a  great  luxury — the  solemnity  of  the  grand  draw- 
ing-room, the  comfortable  amplitude  of  the  dining-room,  the 
peacefulness  of  the  vast  staircase,  with  the  softness  of  the  seats 
and  carpets.  It  was  like  an  abrupt  expansion  of  herself,  of  her 
requirements  of  domination  and  enjoyment,  of  her  wish  to  possess 
everything  merely  to  destroy  it.  Never  before  had  she  felt  so 
strongly  the  power  of  her  sex.  She  glanced  slowly  around  her, 
and  then  said  with  an  air  of  grave  philosophy, 

"Well!  all  the  same,  one  is  right  in  availing  oneself  of  every 
opportunity  when  one  is  young!'* 

But  Satin  was  already  rolling  about  on  the  bear-skins  of  the 
bed-room  and  calling  her. 

"Come  quick!  come  quick!" 

Nana  undressed  herself  in  the  dressing-room.  To  be  ready 
quicker,  she  took  her  thick  light  hair  in  both  hands,  and  shook 
it  over  the  silver  basin,  whilst  a  shower  of  long  hair-pins  fell 
from  it,  ringing  a  chime  on  the  shining  metal. 


£294] 


CHAPTER  XI 

ON  that  Sunday,  beneath  the  cloudy  sky  of  one  of  the  first 
warm  days  of  June,  the  race  for  the  Grand  Prize  of  Paris 
was  to  be  run  in  the  Bois  de  Boulogne.  In  the  morning 
the  sun  had  risen  enveloped  in  a  reddish  mist;  but  towards  eleven 
o'clock,  at  the  moment  when  the  first  vehicles  reached  the  Long- 
champs  racecourse,  a  wind  from  the  south  swept  the  clouds  before 
it.  Long  flakes  of  greyish  vapour  passed  slowly  away,  whilst 
patches  of  dark  blue  sky  gradually  showed  larger  and  larger  from 
one  end  of  the  horizon  to  the  other.  And  in  the  bursts  of  sun- 
shine which  kept  appearing  through  the  breaks  in  the  clouds, 
everything  sparkled  abruptly  —  the  green  turf,  which  was  little 
by  little  being  covered  by  a  crowd  of  vehicles,  and  of  persons  on 
horseback  and  on  foot;  the  course  still  free,  with  the  judge's 
stand,  the  winning-post,  and  the  starting-place;  then  opposite, 
in  the  middle  of  the  enclosure,  the  five  symmetrical  stands,  with 
their  storeys  of  brick  and  wood.  Bathed  in  the  midday  light,  the 
vast  plain  extended  beyond,  bordered  by  little  trees,  and  confined 
in  the  west  by  the  wooded  hills  of  Saint-Cloud  and  Suresnes, 
which  were  crowned  by  the  sharp  outline  of  Mont  Valerien. 

Nana,  as  excited  as  if  the  race  for  the  Grand  Prize  was  to  decide 
her  own  fortune,  wished  to  have  a  place  as  near  as  possible  to  the 
winning-post.  She  arrived  very  early,  one  of  the  first,  in  her 
silver-mounted  landau,  to  which  were  harnessed  four  magnificent 
white  horses,  a  present  from  Count  Muffat.  When  she  appeared, 
with  two  postillions  on  the  near  side  horses,  and  two  grooms 
seated  immovably  behind  the  carriage,  there  was  quite  a  rush  on 
the  part  of  the  crowd,  the  same  as  at  the  passage  of  a  queen. 
She  wore  the  colours  of  the  Vandeuvres  stable,  blue  and  white, 
intermingled  in  a  most  extraordinary  costume.  The  little  body 
and  the  tunic,  in  blue  silk,  were  very  tight  fitting,  and  raised 
behind  in  an  enormous  puff  which  gave  all  the  more  prominence 
to  the  tightness  in  front;  the  skirt  and  sleeves  were  in  white 
satin,  as  well  as  a  sash  that  passed  over  the  shoulder,  and  the 


NANA 

whole  was  trimmed  with  silver  braid  which  sparkled  in  the  sun- 
shine. Whilst,  the  more  to  resemble  a  jockey,  she  had  placed  a 
flat  blue  cap,  ornamented  with  a  feather,  on  the  top  of  her  chig- 
non, from  which  a  long  switch  of  her  golden  hair  hung  down  the 
middle  of  her  back  like  an  enormous  yellow  tail. 

Twelve  o'clock  struck.  There  were  still  three  hours  to  wait 
for  the  race  for  the  Grand  Prize.  As  soon  as  the  landau  had 
taken  up  its  position,  Nana  put  herself  at  her  ease,  as  though 
at  home.  She  had  amused  herself  by  bringing  Bijou  and  little 
Louis.  The  dog,  asleep  amongst  her  skirts,  was  shivering  in 
spite  of  the  heat,  whilst  the  child,  dressed  up  in  ribbons  and  lace, 
remained  as  though  dumb,  and  had  become  so  pale  from  the  force 
of  the  wind  that  he  looked  like  a  wax  figure.  The  young  woman, 
without  troubling  herself  about  her  neighbours,  talked  very  loud 
with  Philippe  and  George  Hugon,  seated  opposite  to  her  amidst 
such  a  pile  of  bouquets,  white  roses  and  blue  forget-me-nots,  that 
they  were  invisible  below  the  shoulders. 

"So,"  she  was  saying,  "as  he  was  becoming  quite  unbearable 
I  showed  him  the  door;  and  for  the  last  two  days  he  hasn't  been 
near  me." 

She  was  speaking  of  Muffat,  only  she  did  not  tell  the  two 
young  men  the  real  cause  of  the  quarrel.  One  night  he  had 
found  a  man's  hat  in  her  room;  it  had  merely  been  a  stupid  fancy 
of  hers,  a  mere  nobody  she  had  picked  up  just  to  enliven  her. 

"You  don't  know  how  peculiar  he's  becoming,"  she  continued, 
amused  at  the  details  she  was  giving.  "He's  a  regular  bigot. 
For  instance,  he  says  his  prayers  every  night.  Oh!  it's  quite 
true.  He  thinks  I  don't  notice  it,  as  I  go  to  bed  first  so  as  not 
to  be  in  his  way;  but  I  have  my  eye  on  him.  He  mutters,  he 
makes  the  sign  of  the  cross  as  he  turns  round  to  step  over  me 
to  get  to  the  inside  of  the  bed." 

"How  artful!"  murmured  Philippe.  "Does  he  do  it  before 
and  after  them?" 

She  laughed  aloud. 

"Yes,  that's  it;  before  and  after.  When  I  doze  off,  I  can  hear 
him  muttering  again.  But  what  annoys  me  is  that  we  can't 
have  the  least  dispute  without  his  immediately  talking  of  the 
priests.  Now,  I've  always  been  religious.  Oh!  laugh  as  much 
as  you  like,  it  won't  prevent  me  believing  what  I  believe.  Only, 
he's  too  bad;  he  sobs,  he  talks  of  his  remorse.  For  instance,  the 

[2963 


NANA 

day  before  yesterday,  after  our  row,  he  had  quite  an  attack; 
I  began  to  feel  very  anxious  — "  But  she  interrupted  herself  to 
say,  "Look,  there  are  the  Mignons.  Why,  they've  brought  the 
children.  Aren't  they  dressed  up,  those  youngsters?" 

The  Mignons  were  in  a  very  quiet  coloured  landau,  with  the 
substantial  air  of  people  who  had  made  their  fortune.  Rose,  in 
a  grey  silk  dress,  trimmed  with  little  cerise  puffs  and  bows,  was 
smiling,  pleased  at  the  evident  delight  of  Henri  and  Charles, 
sitting  on  the  front  seat,  in  their  rather  too  ample  collegian  uni- 
forms. But  when  the  landau  had  taken  up  its  position,  and  she 
caught  sight  of  Nana,  triumphing  in  the  midst  of  her  bouquets, 
with  her  four  horses,  her  postillions  and  her  grooms  in  livery,  she 
bit  her  lips,  and  sitting  bolt  upright,  turned  away  her  head.  Mig- 
non,  on  the  contrary,  looking  very  well  and  lively,  waved  his  hand. 
It  was  one  of  his  principles  always  to  keep  out  of  women's  quarrels. 

"By  the  way,"  resumed  Nana,  "do  you  know  a  little  old 
fellow,  very  tidy  in  his  appearance,  and  with  very  bad  teeth? 
A  Monsieur  Venot.  He  called  on  me  this  morning." 

"Monsieur  Venot!"  echoed  George  in  amazement.  "It  can't 
be!  He's  a  Jesuit." 

"Precisely,  I  soon  found  that  out.  Oh!  you've  no  idea  what 
we  talked  about!  It  was  so  funny!  He  spoke  of  the  count, 
and  of  his  disunited  family,  the  happiness  of  which  he  implored 
me  to  restore.  He  was  very  polite,  too,  and  smiling  all  the  time. 
Then  I  told  him  I  should  be  only  too  pleased  to  do  as  he  wished; 
and  in  the  end  I  promised  to  make  the  count  return  to  his  wife. 
You  know,  it's  not  a  joke;  for  I  shall  be  delighted  to  see  the  whole 
lot  of  them  happy!  Besides,  it  will  give  me  a  rest,  for  there  are 
days  when  he  is  really  too  tiresome!" 

Her  weariness  of  the  last  few  months  escaped  her  in  that  cry 
from  her  heart.  With  all  that,  too,  the  count  appeared  to  be  in 
great  straits  for  money.  He  was  careworn;  the  bill  he  had  given 
to  Labordette  was  coming  due,  and  he  did  not  see  his  way  to  meet  it. 

"Why,  there  is  the  countess  over  there,"  said  George,  who 
had  been  glancing  along  the  stands. 

"Where?"  exclaimed  Nana.  "What  eyes  he  has,  that  baby! 
Hold  my  parasol,  Philippe." 

But  George,  with  a  quick  movement,  forestalled  his  brother, 
and  was  quite  delighted  at  holding  the  blue  silk  parasol,  with 
silver  fringe.  Nana  looked  through  an  enormous  field-glass. 

C2973 


NANA 

"Ah,  yes!  I  see  her,"  said  she  at  length.  "In  the  stand  to 
the  right,  close  to  a  pillar,  is  she  not?  She  is  in  mauve,  with  her 
daughter  in  white  beside  her.  Why!  there's  Daguenet  going  up 
to  them." 

Then  Philippe  talked  of  Daguenet's  approaching  marriage  with 
that  stick  Estelle.  It  was  a  settled  thing;  they  were  publishing 
the  banns.  The  countess  objected  at  first,  but  the  count,  so  it 
was  said,  had  insisted.  Nana  smiled. 

"I  know,  I  know,"  murmured  she.  "So  much  the  better, 
Paul.  He's  a  nice  fellow  —  he  deserves  it;"  and  leaning  towards 
little  Louis,  she  added,  "Well,  are  you  amusing  yourself?  How 
serious  the  child  looks!" 

The  child,  without  a  smile,  watched  the  crowd  about  him, 
looking  very  old,  and  as  though  full  of  sad  reflections  on  what 
he  saw.  Bijou,  driven  from  the  skirts  of  the  young  woman,  who 
was  always  moving  about,  had  gone  to  shiver  against  the  little  one. 

The  space  around  was  rapidly  filling  up.  Vehicles  of  all  sorts 
continuously  arrived  in  a  compact,  interminable  line.  There 
were  enormous  omnibuses,  like  the  "Pauline"  which  had  started 
from  the  Boulevard  des  Italiens  with  its  fifty  passengers  and  which 
took  up  a  position  near  the  stands.  Then  there  were  dog-carts, 
victorias,  and  most  elegant  landaus,  which  mingled  with  old 
tumble-down  cabs  dragged  by  the  most  wretched  horses;  and 
four-in-hands  and  stage-coaches,  with  their  owners  seated  on  the 
top,  and  the  servants  inside  taking  care  of  the  hampers  of  cham- 
pagne; and  light  traps  of  every  description,  some  driven  tandem 
fashion,  and  accompanied  by  a  jingling  of  bells.  Now  and  again 
a  gentleman  on  horseback  passed,  or  a  crowd  of  persons  on  foot 
rushed  in  amongst  the  vehicles.  The  rumbling  noise  which  ac- 
companied the  latter  all  along  the  winding  turnings  of  the  Bois 
de  Boulogne  ceased  as  they  drove  on  to  the  grass.  Nothing  was 
heard  but  the  murmur  of  the  ever-increasing  crowd,  shouts  and 
calls  and  cracking  of  whips,  which  resounded  in  the  open  air. 
And  each  time  the  sun  appeared  from  out  the  clouds  scattered 
by  the  wind,  a  blaze  of  golden  light  lit  up  the  mounted  harnesses 
and  the  varnished  panels,  and  brought  out  the  brilliant  colours 
of  the  costumes;  whilst  in  that  flood  of  sunshine  the  coachmen 
on  their  high  seats  were  conspicuous  with  their  long  whips. 

Labordette  was  alighting  from  an  open  carriage  in  which  Gaga, 
Clarisse,  and  Blanche  de  Sivry  had  reserved  him  a  place.  As  he 


NANA 

was  hastening  to  cross  the  course  and  enter  the  enclosure,  Nana 
got  George  to  call  him.  Then  when  he  came  up, 

"What's  my  price?"  she  asked  with  a  laugh. 

She  was  speaking  of  Nana,  the  filly  —  that  Nana  which  had 
been  ignominiously  defeated  in  the  race  for  the  Diana  Prize, 
and  which,  even  in  the  months  just  past  —  April  and  May  —  had 
not  even  been  placed  in  the  races  for  the  Des  Cars  Prize  and  the 
Grand  Poule  des  Produits,  both  of  which  had  fallen  to  Lusignan, 
the  other  thoroughbred  of  the  Vandeuvres  stable.  Lusignan  had 
at  once  become  chief  favourite,  and  had  latterly  been  freely  taken 
at  two  to  one. 

"Still  at  fifty/'  replied  Labordette. 

"The  devil!  then  I'm  not  worth  much,"  resumed  Nana,  who 
was  amused  at  the  joke.  "Then  I  sha'n't  back  myself.  No, 
I'll  be  hanged  if  I  do!  I  won't  put  a  single  louis  on  myself." 

Labordette,  who  was  in  a  great  hurry,  was  starting  off  again; 
but  she  called  him  back.  She  wanted  a  piece  of  advice.  He 
who  knew  a  number  of  trainers  and  jockeys,  had  the  best  infor- 
mation respecting  the  different  stables.  Twenty  times  already 
his  tips  had  come  off.  He  was  nicknamed  the  king  of  the  sport- 
ing prophets. 

"Come  now,  which  horses  ought  I  to  back?"  asked  the  young 
woman.  "At  what  price  is  the  English  one?" 

"Spirit?  at  three  to  one;  Valerio  II.  also  at  three  to  one.  Then 
the  others  —  Cosinus  at  twenty-five,  Hasard  at  forty,  Bourn  at 
thirty,  Pichenette  at  thirty-five,  Frangipane  at  ten." 

"No,  I  won't  back  the  English  horse.  I'm  patriotic.  Well, 
what  do  you  say?  Shall  it  be  Valerio  II.?  The  Duke  de  Corbreuse 
looked  quite  beaming  just  now.  Well,  no!  I'd  rather  not.  Fifty 
louis  on  Lusignan  —  what  do  you  say?" 

Labordette  looked  at  her  in  a  peculiar  manner.  She  leant 
forward  and  questioned  him  in  a  low  voice,  for  she  knew  that 
Vandeuvres  instructed  him  to  bet  for  him  with  the  book-makers, 
so  as  to  be  more  free  in  his  own  betting.  If  he  had  learnt  any- 
thing, he  might  as  well  tell  her;  but  Labordette,  without  explain- 
ing why,  advised  her  to  trust  to  his  instinct.  He  would  lay  out 
her  fifty  louis  as  he  thought  best,  and  she  should  not  regret  it. 

"All  the  horses  you  like,"  she  cried  gaily,  as  he  went  off,  "but 
not  Nana  —  she's  a  jade!" 

They  all  laughed  madly  in  the  carriage.  The  young  men  thought 

C299] 


NANA 

it  very  funny,  whilst  little  Louis,  without  understanding,  raised 
his  pale  eyes  to  his  mother,  the  loud  accents  of  whose  voice  sur- 
prised him.  Labordette,  however,  was  still  unable  to  get  off. 
Rose  Mignon  had  beckoned  him,  and  she  gave  him  some  instruc- 
tions which  he  wrote  down  in  his  note-book;  then  Clarisse  and 
Gaga  called  him  back,  as  they  wished  to  modify  their  bets;  they 
had  heard  different  things  in  the  crowd,  and  would  no  longer 
back  Valerio  II.,  but  went  in  for  Lusignan;  he,  quite  impassible, 
made  notes  of  what  they  required.  At  length  he  got  away,  and 
was  seen  to  disappear  between  two  of  the  stands  on  the  other 
side  of  the  course. 

Carriages  still  continued  to  arrive.  They  now  comprised  five 
rows  along  the  barrier  bordering  the  course,  and  formed  quite  a 
dense  mass  streaked  here  and  there  by  the  light  hue  of  the  white 
horses.  Then  beyond,  there  were  numerous  other  isolated  ve- 
hicles, looking  as  though  they  had  stuck  in  the  grass,  a  medley  of 
wheels  and  of  teams  in  every  possible  position,  side  by  side,  slant- 
wise, crosswise,  and  head  to  head;  and  horsemen  trotted  across 
the  plots  of  grass  that  were  still  comparatively  free,  whilst  foot- 
passengers  appeared  in  black  groups  continually  on  the  move. 
Overtopping  this  kind  of  fair-ground,  amidst  the  strangely  mixed 
crowd,  rose  the  grey  refreshment  tents,  to  which  the  sunshine 
imparted  a  white  appearance.  But  the  greatest  crush,  an  ever- 
moving  sea  of  hats,  was  around  the  book-makers,  who  were  stand- 
ing up  in  open  vehicles,  gesticulating  like  quack  dentists,  with 
their  betting  lists  stuck  up  on  boards  beside  them. 

"All  the  same,  it's  awfully  stupid  not  to  know  what  horse 
one's  backing,"  Nana  was  saying.  "I  must  venture  a  few  louis 
myself." 

She  stood  up  to  select  a  book-maker  whose  face  should  take 
her  fancy.  But  she  forgot  her  intention  as  she  caught  sight  of 
a  crowd  of  acquaintances  around  her.  Besides  the  Mignons,  and 
Gaga,  and  Clarisse  and  Blanche,  there  were  on  the  right,  and  the 
left,  and  behind,  in  the  midst  of  the  mass  of  vehicles  which  had 
now  quite  shut  in  her  landau,  Tatan  Nene  with  Maria  Blond  in 
a  victoria,  Caroline  Hequet  with  her  mother  and  two  gentlemen 
in  a  calash,  Louise  Violaine,  all  alone,  and  driving  a  little  basket 
chaise  bedecked  with  orange  and  green  ribbons,  the  colour  of  the 
Mechain  stable,  Lea  de  Horn  on  the  box  seat  of  a  stage-coach, 
with  a  crowd  of  young  men  who  were  making  a  great  noise. 

£300] 


NANA 

Farther  off,  Lucy  Stewart,  in  a  very  simple  black  silk  dress,  was 
looking  most  distinguished  beside  a  young  man  wearing  the  uni- 
form of  a  midshipman,  in  a  carriage  of  most  aristocratic  appearance. 
But  what  really  astounded  Nana  was  to  see  Simone  arrive  in 
a  trap  that  Steiner  was  driving  tandem  fashion,  with  a  tiger 
sitting  bolt  upright  behind,  his  arms  folded,  and  quite  immovable; 
she  was  resplendent,  all  in  white  satin  striped  with  yellow,  and 
sparkling  with  diamonds  from  her  waist  to  her  bonnet,  whilst 
the  banker,  with  a  long  whip,  urged  on  the  two  horses,  the  first 
a  little  chestnut,  which  trotted  like  a  mouse,  and  the  other,  a 
tall  bay,  a  stepper  which  raised  its  legs  very  high. 

"By  Jove!"  said  Nana,  "that  old  thief  Steiner  must  have  made 
another  haul  at  the  Bourse!  Doesn't  Simone  look  smart?  It's 
too  much,  he'll  get  copped  one  of  these  days." 

But,  all  the  same,  she  exchanged  a  bow  with  them  from  a  dis- 
tance. She  kept  waving  her  hand,  smiling,  and  turning  about, 
forgetting  no  one  so  as  to  be  seen  by  all.  And  she  continued  talking. 

"But  it's  her  son  that  Lucy  is  dragging  about  with  her!  He 
looks  very  nice  in  his  uniform.  That's  why  she's  trying  to  be 
so  grand!  You  know  that  she's  afraid  of  him,  and  pretends  she's 
an  actress.  Poor  young  man,  all  the  same!  He  doesn't  seem  to 
have  an  idea  of  the  truth." 

"Pooh!"  murmured  Philippe,  laughing,  "whenever  she  chooses 
she  will  find  him  a  country  heiress." 

Nana  left  off  talking.  She  had  just  caught  sight  of  old  Tricon, 
in  the  thick  of  the  vehicles.  Having  come  in  a  cab  from  which 
she  could  see  nothing,  the  old  lady  had  quietly  mounted  the  driver's 
seat.  And  there,  standing  up  to  the  full  height  of  her  tall  figure, 
with  her  noble-looking  face  and  long  curls,  she  commanded  a  full 
view  of  the  crowd,  and  seemed  to  be  reigning  over  her  women 
people.  They  all  discreetly  smiled  to  her.  She,  as  a  superior  being, 
pretended  not  to  know  them.  She  was  not  there  to  work,  she  came 
to  see  the  races  for  pleasure,  for  she  was  an  inveterate  gambler, 
and  was  mad  about  horses. 

"Look!  there's  that  idiot  La  Faloise!"  said  George  suddenly. 

It  was  a  surprise  to  all  of  them.  Nana  no  longer  recognised 
her  La  Faloise.  Since  he  had  inherited  his  uncle's  fortune,  he 
had  become  an  extraordinarily  fashionable  young  man.  With 
his  collar  slightly  turned  down  in  front,  dressed  in  a  light  coloured 
suit,  which  fitted  tightly  to  his  bony  shoulders,  and  with  his  hair 


NANA 

curled,  he  affected  a  jog-trot  of  weariness,  a  feeble  tone  of  voice, 
slang  words,  and  phrases  which  he  never  took  the  trouble  to 
finish. 

"But  he  looks  very  well!"  declared  Nana,  fascinated. 

Gaga  and  Clarisse  called  La  Faloise,  throwing  themselves  at 
his  head,  so  to  say,  trying  to  hook  him  again.  But  he  left  them 
at  once,  with  an  air  of  pity,  mingled  with  disdain.  Nana  attracted 
him,  and  hastening  to  her,  he  stood  on  the  step  of  the  carriage; 
and  as  she  chaffed  him  about  Gaga,  he  murmured: 

"Oh,  no!  no  more  of  the  old  guard!  It's  no  use  their  trying! 
Besides,  you  know,  you're  now  my  Juliet  — 

He  placed  his  hand  on  his  heart.  Nana  laughed  immensely  at 
that  abrupt  declaration  before  everyone.  But  she  resumed: 

"There,  that'll  do.  You're  making  me  forget  that  I  want  to 
bet.  George,  you  see  that  book-maker  over  there,  the  fat  red 
one,  with  curly  hair?  He  has  the  head  of  a  dirty  rascal,  which 
takes  my  fancy.  You  go  and  bet  with  him.  Well,  what  shall  I 
back?" 

"I'm  no  patriot!  —  oh,  no!"  stuttered  La  Faloise;  "all  my 
money  is  on  the  English  horse.  What  a  lark  if  he  wins !  All  the 
French  will  go  mad!" 

Nana  thought  his  language  disgraceful.  Then  they  discussed 
the  merits  of  the  different  horses.  La  Faloise,  to  make  everyone 
think  that  he  was  a  judge  of  horse-flesh,  pretended  they  were  all 
sorry  animals.  Baron  Verdier's  Frangipane,  was  by  Truth  out 
of  Lenore;  it  was  a  big  bay,  and  might  have  had  a  chance  if  it 
had  not  been  lamed  during  training.  As  for  Valerio  II.,  from 
the  Corbreuse  stable,  it  was  not  in  condition,  it  had  had  the  gripes 
in  April;  oh!  they  were  keeping  that  dark,  but  he  was  sure  of  it, 
on  his  word  of  honour!  And  he  ended  by  recommending  Hasard, 
a  horse  belonging  to  the  Mechain  stable,  the  worst  beast  of  the 
lot,  and  which  no  one  would  look  at.  The  deuce !  Hasard  showed 
superb  form,  and  such  a  style!  There  was  an  animal  that  would 
surprise  everyone ! 

"No,"  said  Nana.  "I  shall  bet  ten  louis  on  Lusignan,  and 
five  on  Bourn." 

On  hearing  this,  La  Faloise  burst  out  again. 

"But,  my  dear,  Bourn  is  simply  awful!  don't  back  him. 
Even  Gasc,  the  owner,  won't.  And  Lusignan,  he's  not  in  it!  — 
all  rubbish!  By  Lamb  out  of  Princess  —  just  think  of  it!  Not 


NANA 

the  ghost  of  a  chance  for  anything  by  Lamb  out  of  Princess! 
All  too  short  in  the  legs!" 

He  was  almost  choking.  Philippe  observed  that  notwith- 
standing all  that,  Lusignan  had  carried  off  the  Des  Cars  Prize  and 
the  Grande  Poule  des  Produits.  But  the  other  was  ready  for  him. 
What  did  that  prove?  Nothing  at  all.  On  the  contrary,  they 
should  beware;  and,  besides,  Gresham  was  to  ride  Lusignan,  so 
what  was  the  use  of  arguing?  Gresham  had  no  luck,  he  never  won. 

And  the  discussion,  which  started  from  Nana's  landau,  seemed 
to  spread  from  one  end  of  the  race-ground  to  the  other.  Screech- 
ing voices  were  heard.  The  passion  for  gambling  passed  over 
all,  giving  a  flush  to  the  faces,  and  putting  confusion  into  the 
gestures;  whilst  the  book-makers  were  furiously  calling  out  the 
prices,  and  inscribing  the  bets  made.  Only  the  small  fry  of  the 
betting  fraternity  were  there,  the  big  bets  were  being  made  in- 
side the  enclosure.  It  was  the  greediness  of  the  smaller  gamblers 
risking  their  five  francs,  displaying  their  eagerness  for  a  possible 
gain  of  a  few  louis.  In  short,  the  big  battle  was  expected  to  be 
between  Spirit  and  Lusignan.  Some  Englishmen,  easily  recog- 
nisable by  their  appearance,  were  walking  about  amongst  the 
different  groups  as  though  at  home,  with  flushed  faces,  and  already 
triumphing.  Bramah,  a  horse  of  Lord  Reading,  had  won  the 
Grand  Prize  the  previous  year  —  a  defeat  for  which  all  French 
hearts  were  still  bleeding.  This  year  it  would  be  a  regular  disaster 
if  France  was  beaten  again,  so  that  all  the  women  were  dreadfully 
excited  on  account  of  national  pride.  The  Vandeuvres  stable 
became  the  rampart  of  the  honour  of  France.  They  all  backed 
Lusignan,  they  upheld  him,  they  cheered  him  to  the  echo.  Gaga, 
Blanche,  Caroline,  and  the  others  all  put  their  money  on  him. 
Lucy  did  not  do  so,  because  her  son  was  with  her;  but  it  was  said 
that  Rose  Mignon  had  commissioned  Labordette  to  back  him  to 
the  extent  of  two  hundred  louis.  Only  old  Tricon,  seated  beside 
her  driver,  awaited  the  last  moment,  very  cool  in  the  midst  of 
the  wrangling,  predominating  over  the  increasing  uproar,  in  which 
the  names  of  the  different  horses  were  continually  repeated  in  the 
sprightly  remarks  of  the  Parisians,  and  the  guttural  exclamations 
of  the  Englishmen.  She  listened  and  took  notes  in  a  majestic 
manner. 

"And  Nana?"  said  George.    "Is  no  one  backing  her?'* 

No,  no  one  was  backing  her;    she  was  not  even  mentioned. 

C3033 


NANA 

The  outsider  of  the  Vandeuvres  stable  was  eclipsed  by  Lusi- 
gnan's  popularity.  But  La  Faloise  raised  his  arms  in  the  air  and 
exclaimed, 

"An  inspiration!    I  shall  put  a  louis  on  Nana." 

"Bravo!  I'll  put  two,"  said  George. 

"And  I  three,"  added  Philippe. 

And  they  kept  increasing  their  amount,  pleasantly  paying  their 
court,  quoting  figures  as  though  they  were  bidding  for  Nana  at 
an  auction.  La  Faloise  talked  of  covering  her  with  gold.  Be- 
sides, everyone  ought  to  back  her  for  something.  They  would 
go  and  canvass  among  those  willing  to  bet.  But  as  the  three 
young  men  hastened  off  to  carry  out  their  design,  Nana  called  to 
them, 

"Remember,  I'll  have  nothing  to  do  with  her!  Not  on  any 
account!  George,  ten  louis  on  Lusignan  and  five  on  Valerio  II." 

They  rushed  away.  She,  greatly  amused,  watched  them  glide 
amongst  the  wheels,  stoop  beneath  the  horses'  heads,  and  beat 
all  about  the  place.  As  soon  as  they  recognised  any  one  in  a 
carriage,  they  hurried  to  them  and  lauded  the  filly  to  the  skies. 
And  great  bursts  of  laughter  passed  over  the  crowd  as  now  and 
again  they  looked  back  and  triumphantly  held  up  their  fingers 
to  show  the  number  of  louis  that  had  been  bet;  whilst  the  young 
woman,  standing  up  in  her  carriage,  waved  her  parasol.  However, 
they  did  not  meet  with  much  success.  A  few  men  allowed  them- 
selves to  be  persuaded.  Steiner,  for  instance,  who  felt  strangely 
moved  at  the  sight  of  Nana,  risked  three  louis;  but  the  women  all 
most  emphatically  refused.  Thank  you;  they  did  not  want  a 
certain  loss!  Besides,  they  were  not  in  a  hurry  to  add  to  the  suc- 
cess of  a  beast  of  a  girl  who  put  them  all  in  the  shade  with  her  four 
white  horses,  her  postillions,  and  her  air  of  devouring  every  one. 
Gage  and  Clarisse  stiffly  asked  La  Faloise  if  he  thought  them  a 
couple  of  fools.  When  George  boldly  presented  himself  at  the 
Mignons'  carriage,  Rose,  highly  incensed,  turned  away  her  head 
without  answering.  One  must  be  a  dirty  baggage  to  allow  one's 
name  to  be  given  to  a  horse!  Mignon,  on  the  contrary,  followed 
the  young  man,  looking  greatly  amused,  and  saying  that  women 
always  brought  luck. 

"Well?"  asked  Nana,  when  the  young  men  returned  after  a 
long  visit  to  the  book-makers. 

"You're  at  forty,"  said  La  Faloise. 

£3043 


NANA 

"How  at  forty?"  cried  she  in  amazement.  "I  was  at  fifty. 
What  has  happened?" 

Labordette  just  then  returned.  They  were  clearing  the  course, 
and  the  ringing  of  a  bell  announced  the  first  race.  And  in  the 
uproar  that  this  occasioned,  she  questioned  him  respecting  the 
sudden  rise  in  price;  but  he  answered  evasively.  No  doubt 
there  had  been  a  few  inquiries  about  the  filly.  She  was  obliged 
to  be  contented  with  that  explanation.  Besides,  Labordette,  who 
appeared  to  have  something  on  his  mind,  told  her  that  Van- 
deuvres  intended  coming  if  he  could  possibly  get  away  for  a  time. 

The  race  ended  almost  unnoticed  in  the  waiting  for  the  big 
event,  wKen  a  cloud  burst  over  the  course.  For  some  little  while 
the  sun  had  disappeared,  and  a  dull  light  darkened  the  crowd. 
The  wind  rose,  and  the  rain  came  down,  first  in  big  drops  and 
then  in  torrents.  There  was  a  momentary  confusion;  shouts  and 
jokes  and  oaths  were  heard  on  all  sides,  whilst  the  people  on  foot 
scrambled  under  cover  in  the  refreshment  tents.  In  the  carriages 
the  women  tried  to  shelter  themselves,  holding  their  parasols  with 
both  hands,  and  the  bewildered  footmen  hastened  to  raise  the 
hoods.  But  the  shower  ceased  almost  immediately;  the  sun 
reappeared  with  dazzling  splendour,  shining  amidst  the  last  fine 
drops  of  rain.  A  long  strip  of  blue  appeared  in  the  place  of  the 
cloud  as  the  wind  carried  it  over  the  Bois.  And  the  sky  became 
quite  bright,  raising  the  laughter  of  the  women,  who  no  longer 
feared  for  their  elegant  costumes;  whilst  the  flood  of  golden  sun- 
shine, in  the  midst  of  the  snorting  of  the  horses  and  the  helter- 
skelter  and  agitation  of  the  soaked  crowd  shaking  off  the  wet, 
lit  up  the  ground  all  sparkling  with  drops  of  crystal. 

"Oh!  poor  little  Louis!"  said  Nana.  "Are  you  very  wet,  my 
cherub?" 

The  child,  without  a  word,  let  her  wipe  his  hands  with  her 
pocket-handkerchief.  She  then  wiped  Bijou,  who  was  trembling 
more  than  ever.  It  was  nothing,  only  a  few  spots  on  the  white 
satin  of  her  dress,  but  she  didn't  care.  The  bouquets,  freshened 
up,  glittered  like  snow;  and  she,  feeling  so  happy,  smelt  one  of 
them,  wetting  her  lips  as  though  in  dew. 

The  shower,  however,  had  had  the  effect  of  suddenly  filling 
the  stands.  Nana  looked  at  them  through  her  field-glass.  At 
that  distance  one  could  only  distinguish  a  compact  and  mixed 
mass,  piled  up  on  the  different  tiers,  a  dark  background  broken 

C3053 


NANA 

by  the  pale  faces.  The  sun  filtered  in  through  the  corners  of 
the  roof,  curtailing  the  seated  crowd  with  angles  of  light,  and 
giving  a  washed-out  appearance  to  the  costumes  of  the  women. 
But  Nana  was  most  amused  by  the  ladies  whom  the  shower  had 
driven  from  the  rows  of  chairs  placed  on  the  gravel  at  the  foot 
of  the  stands.  As  admission  to  the  enclosure  was  rigorously 
denied  to  all  gay  women,  Nana  made  the  most  spiteful  remarks 
about  the  respectable  members  of  her  sex,  who  she  considered 
were  shockingly  badly  dressed  and  looked  highly  ridiculous. 

A  murmur  ran  through  the  crowd.  The  Empress  was  entering 
the  little  stand  in  the  centre,  a  pavilion  in  the  form  of  a  Swiss 
cottage,  the  large  balcony  of  which  was  furnished  with  red  arm- 
chairs. 

"Why,  there  he  is!"  said  George.  "I  did  not  think  he  was  on 
duty  this  week." 

Count  Muffat's  stiff,  solemn  figure  had  appeared  behind  the 
Empress.  Then  the  young  men  began  to  joke,  regretting  Satin 
was  not  there  to  go  and  give  him  a  knock  in  the  stomach.  But 
Nana,  looking  through  her  field-glass,  caught  sight  of  the  head 
of  the  Prince  of  Scotland  in  the  imperial  stand. 

"Look!  there's  Charles!"  she  cried.  She  thought  he  was  fat- 
ter. In  eighteen  months  he  seemed  to  have  become  broader. 
And  she  gave  some  details.  Oh!  he  was  a  devilish  strong  fellow. 

Round  about  her,  the  other  women  in  their  carriages  were 
whispering  that  the  count  had  given  her  up.  It  was  quite  a 
story.  The  Tuileries  had  become  scandalized  at  the  chamber- 
Iain's  behaviour  since  he  had  been  going  about  with  her  openly, 
so,  to  preserve  his  place,  he  had  put  an  end  to  his  connection  with 
her.  La  Faloise  impudently  repeated  the  story  to  the  young 
woman,  again  offering  himself  and  calling  her  "his  Juliet."  But 
she  had  a  hearty  laugh,  and  said: 

"It's  absurd.  You  don't  know  him.  I've  only  to  whistle  to 
him,  and  he'll  throw  everything  up  for  me." 

For  a  few  minutes  she  had  been  watching  Countess  Sabine 
and  Estelle.  Daguenet  was  still  with  them.  Fauchery,  who 
had  just  arrived,  disturbed  everyone  in  order  to  get  to  them, 
and  he  also  remained  there,  smiling.  Then  she  continued,  dis- 
dainfully pointing  to  the  stands, 

"Besides,  you  know,  all  those  people  no  longer  amaze  me. 
I  know  them  too  well.  You  should  see  them  with  the  gloss  off! 


NANA 

No  more  respect!  respect  is  done  with!  Filth  below,  filth  up  above, 
it's  always  filth  and  company.  That's  why  I  won't  put  up  with 
any  nonsense." 

And  she  made  an  extended  gesture  which  included  all  —  from 
the  grooms  leading  the  horses  on  to  the  course  to  the  sovereign 
herself,  who  was  conversing  with  Charles,  a  prince,  but  a  dirty 
fellow  all  the  same. 

"Bravo,  Nana!  she's  capital,  Nana!"  exclaimed  La  Faloise 
enthusiastically. 

The  sounds  of  the  bell  were  lost  in  the  wind.  The  races  con- 
tinued. The  race  for  the  Ispahan  Prize  had  just  been  won  by 
Berlingot,  a  horse  belonging  to  the  Mechain  stable.  Nana  called 
to  Labordette  to  ask  him  for  news  of  her  fifty  louis.  He  laughed, 
and  refused  to  tell  her  which  horses  he  had  backed,  so  as  not  to 
change  the  luck,  he  said.  Her  money  was  well  invested,  as  she 
would  see  by-and-by.  And  as  she  told  him  of  her  two  bets  — 
ten  louis  on  Lusignan  and  five  on  Valeric  II.  —  he  shrugged  his 
shoulders  with  an  air  of  saying  that  women  would  make  fools 
of  themselves,  in  spite  of  everything.  This  surprised  her  a  great 
deal;  she  could  no  longer  understand  anything. 

At  this  moment  the  animation  increased  around.  Luncheons 
were  spread  in  the  open  air  to  help  to  pass  the  time  until  the 
race  for  the  Grand  Prize  was  run.  Everyone  ate,  and  drank 
still  more,  anywhere  —  on  the  grass,  on  the  high  seats  of  the  stage- 
coaches and  the  drags,  in  the  victorias,  the  broughams,  and  the 
landaus.  There  was  a  general  spread  of  cold  meats,  an  unpacking 
of  hampers  of  champagne,  which  the  footmen  brought  from  under 
box  seats.  The  corks  flew  out  with  feeble  detonations,  which 
were  carried  away  by  the  wind;  jokes  were  bandied  about;  the 
sound  of  breaking  glasses  introduced  cracked  notes  into  the  nervous 
gaiety.  Gaga  and  Clarisse  were  making  quite  a  meal  with  Blanche, 
devouring  sandwiches  on  a  cloth  which  they  had  spread  over  their 
knees.  Louise  Violaine  had  alighted  from  her  basket  chaise  and 
joined  Caroline  Hequet;  and  on  the  grass,  at  their  feet,  some 
gentlemen  had  set  up  an  imitation  bar,  where  Tatan,  Maria, 
Simone,  and  the  others  came  to  drink;  whilst  close  by,  up  aloft, 
there  was  quite  a  band  on  a  stage-coach  with  Lea  de  Horn,  all 
emptying  bottles  as  fast  as  they  could,  and  getting  quite  tipsy 
in  the  sunshine,  shouting  and  gesticulating  above  the  crowd. 
But  soon  everyone  pressed  round  Nana's  landau.  She  was 


NANA 

standing  up  filling  glasses  of  champagne  for  the  men  who  came 
to  shake  hands  with  her.  One  of  the  footmen,  Francois,  handed 
up  the  bottle,  whilst  La  Faloise,  imitating  the  voice  of  a  mounte- 
bank, called  out, 

"Walk  up,  gentlemen.  It's  all  for  nothing.  There's  some 
for  everyone." 

"Do  be  quiet,  my  dear  fellow,"  Nana  ended  by  saying.  "We 
look  like  a  lot  of  buffoons." 

She  thought  him  very  funny,  however,  and  was  immensely 
amused.  One  moment  she  had  the  idea  of  sending  George  with 
a  glass  of  champagne  to  Rose  Mignon,  who  pretended  she  did 
not  drink.  Henri  and  Charles  looked  bored  to  death.  The 
youngsters  would  have  liked  some  champagne;  but  George, 
being  afraid  of  a  row,  drank  the  wine  himself.  Then  Nana  rec- 
ollected little  Louis,  whom  she  had  forgotten  behind  her.  Perhaps 
he  was  thirsty;  and  she  got  him  to  take  a  few  drops  of  wine,  which 
made  him  cough  frightfully. 

"Walk  up,  walk  up,  gentlemen,"  repeated  La  Faloise.  "It 
doesn't  cost  two  sous,  it  doesn't  cost  one  sou.  We  give  it  for 
nothing." 

But  Nana  interrupted  him,  exclaiming:  "Look!  there's  Borde- 
nave  over  there!  Call  him,  oh!  please  run  and  fetch  him!" 

It  was  indeed  Bordenave,  who  was  walking  about  with  his 
hands  behind  his  back,  and  a  hat  that  looked  rusty  in  the  sunshine, 
and  a  greasy  frock-coat,  all  whitened  at  the  seams;  a  Bordenave 
disfigured  by  bankruptcy,  but  still  as  furious  as  ever,  displaying 
his  misery  amongst  the  world  of  fashion,  with  the  cheek  of  a  man 
ever  ready  to  violate  fortune. 

"The  devil!  what  style!"  said  he,  when  Nana,  like  the  good- 
natured  girl  she  was,  held  out  her  hand  to  him.  Then,  after 
tossing  off  a  glass  of  champagne,  he  uttered  this  remark  full  of 
deep  regret,  "Ah!  if  I  was  only  a  woman!  But,  damn  it  all! 
it  doesn't  matter!  Will  you  return  to  the  stage?  I've  an  idea. 
I'll  take  the  Gaiety  Theatre,  and  between  us  we  will  carry  Paris 
by  storm.  What  do  you  say?  You  at  least  owe  me  that." 

And  he  remained  standing,  grumbling  to  himself,  though 
happy  at  seeing  her  again;  for,  as  he  said,  that  confounded  Nana 
was  balm  to  his  heart,  merely  by  living  before  him.  She  was  his 
daughter,  his  very  blood. 

The  circle  increased.  Now,  La  Faloise  was  pouring  out,  whilst 

£308:1 


NANA 

Philippe  and  George  went  in  search  of  more  friends.  Slowly 
but  surely  everyone  was  attracted  to  the  spot.  Nana  had  a  laugh 
and  a  witty  remark  for  everyone.  The  different  bands  of  drinkers 
drew  nearer,  all  the  champagne  scattered  about,  came  towards 
her,  there  was  soon  but  one  crowd,  but  one  uproar,  around  her 
landau;  and  she  reigned  among  the  glasses  held  towards  her, 
with  her  yellow  hair  flying  in  the  breeze,  and  her  snow  white 
face  bathed  with  sunshine.  Then,  to  crown  all,  and  to  finally  settle 
the  other  women,  who  were  enraged  at  her  triumph,  she  filled  her 
glass  and  raised  it  on  high,  in  her  old  posture  of  Venus  vic- 
torious. 

But  some  one  was  touching  her  on  the  back,  and  on  turning 
round,  she  was  surprised  to  see  Mignon  on  the  seat.  She  dis- 
appeared for  a  moment  and  seated  herself  beside  him,  for  he  had 
something  important  to  say  to  her.  Mignon  was  in  the  habit  of 
saying  everywhere,  that  his  wife  was  ridiculous  to  have  a  grudge 
against  Nana;  he  considered  it  stupid  and  useless. 

"This  is  what's  the  matter,  my  dear,"  murmured  he.  "Be 
careful  not  to  make  Rose  too  wild.  You  understand,  I  prefer  to 
put  you  on  your  guard.  Yes,  she  has  a  weapon;  and  as  she  has 
never  forgiven  you  the  '  Little  Duchess '  affair  — " 

"A  weapon?"  interrupted  Nana,  "what  the  deuce  do  I  care?" 

"Listen,  it's  a  letter  that  she  must  have  found  in  Fauchery's 
pocket  —  a  letter  written  to  that  wretch  Fauchery  by  Countess 
Sabine.  And  on  my  word,  it's  all  there,  in  black  and  white. 
So  Rose  intends  to  send  the  letter  to  the  count,  to  be  avenged 
on  you  and  him." 

"What  the  deuce  do  I  care?"  repeated  Nana.  "It's  awfully 
funny,  though.  Ah!  so  it's  true  about  Fauchery.  Well!  so  much 
the  better,  she  annoyed  me  immensely.  What  a  joke  it'll  be." 

"But  no,  I  don't  want  it  to  be  done,"  hastily  resumed  Mignon. 
"It  would  make  such  a  scandal!  Besides,  it  would  be  of  no  use 
tous- 

He  stopped,  afraid  of  saying  too  much.  She  exclaimed  that 
she  was  certainly  not  going  to  pull  a  respectable  woman  out  of 
the  mire;  but  as  he  persisted  she  looked  him  full  in  the  face. 
No  doubt  he  was  afraid  of  seeing  Fauchery  back  in  his  family 
circle,  if  the  countess  were  exposed.  That  was  just  what  Rose 
wished,  at  the  same  time  desiring  vengeance,  for  she  still  enter- 
tained a  tender  feeling  for  the  journalist.  And  Nana  became 

£309  3 


NANA 

thoughtful.  She  was  thinking  of  M.  Venot's  visit,  and  was  form- 
ing a  plan  whilst  Mignon  was  trying  to  convince  her. 

"Well,  suppose  Rose  sends  the  letter;  there'll  be  a  great  scandal, 
won't  there?  You  will  be  mixed  up  in  it,  everyone  will  say  it's 
your  fault.  Then  the  count  will  at  once  separate  from  his  wife  — " 

"Why  so?"  asked  she.    "On  the  contrary  - 

But  in  her  turn  she  interrupted  herself.  There  was  no  need 
for  her  to  think  out  aloud.  At  last,  she  pretended  to  enter 
into  Mignon's  views,  so  as  to  get  rid  of  him;  and,  as  he  advised 
her  to  give  in  a  bit  to  Rose  —  to  pay  her  a  little  visit,  for  instance, 
there,  before  everyone  —  she  replied  that  she  would  see,  that 
she  would  think  about  it. 

A  sudden  uproar  caused  her  to  stand  up  again.  On  the  course 
some  horses  passed  like  a  flash  of  lightning.  It  was  the  race 
for  the  City  of  Paris  Prize,  which  fell  to  Cornemuse.  Now  the 
race  for  the  Grand  Prize  was  about  to  be  run.  The  fever  increased; 
anxiety  seized  on  the  crowd,  which  stamped  and  swayed  in  an 
endeavour  to  make  the  time  pass  more  quickly;  and  at  that  last 
moment  a  surprise  bewildered  the  betting-men  —  the  continual 
rise  in  the  price  of  Nana,  the  outsider  of  the  Vandeuvres  stable. 
Gentlemen  returned  every  minute  with  a  fresh  quotation  —  Nana 
was  at  thirty,  Nana  was  at  twenty-five,  then  at  twenty,  then  at 
fifteen.  No  one  understood  what  it  meant.  A  filly  beaten  on 
every  race-course,  a  filly  which,  that  very  morning,  could  not 
find  a  backer  at  fifty!  What  could  be  the  meaning  of  that  sudden 
craze?  Some  laughed,  and  talked  of  the  clean  sweep  made  of 
all  those  idiots  who  were  allowing  themselves  to  be  taken  in; 
others,  serious  and  anxious,  were  sure  there  was  something  up. 
All  sorts  of  stories  were  recalled,  of  the  robberies  countenanced 
on  the  race-course;  but  this  time  the  great  name  of  Vandeuvres 
silenced  all  accusations,  and  the  sceptics  found  most  believers 
when  they  prophesied  that  Nana  would  come  in  a  good  last. 

"Who  rides  Nana?"  asked  La  Faloise. 

Just  then  the  real  Nana  reappeared.  Then  the  gentlemen, 
bursting  into  exaggerated  laughter,  gave  an  indecent  meaning 
to  the  question.  Nana  bowed. 

"It's  Price,"  she  replied. 

And  the  discussion  recommenced.  Price  was  an  English 
celebrity  unknown  in  France.  Why  had  Vandeuvres  engaged 
this  jockey,  when  Gresham  generally  rode  Nana?  Besides,  every- 

£310:1 


NANA 

one  was  surprised  to  see  him  trust  Lusignan  to  that  Gresham,  who, 
as  La  Faloise  said,  never  came  in  first.  But  all  these  remarks  were 
lost  in  the  jokes,  and  the  contradictions,  and  the  extraordinary 
hubbub  of  various  opinions.  To  pass  the  time  everyone  returned 
to  the  bottles  of  champagne.  Then  a  whisper  passed  round,  the 
groups  made  way,  and  Vandeuvres  appeared.  Nana  pretended 
to  be  cross. 

"Well!  you're  nice,  not  to  come  till  this  time!  I,  who've  been 
longing  to  see  the  enclosure." 

"Come  then,"  said  he,  "there  is  still  time.  You  can  have  a 
look  round.  I  just  happen  to  have  a  lady's  ticket." 

And  he  led  her  off  on  his  arm,  she  delighted  at  seeing  the  jealous 
looks  with  which  Lucy,  Caroline,  and  the  other  women  watched 
her.  The  two  Hugons  and  La  Faloise,  remaining  in  the  landau, 
continued  to  do  the  honours  of  her  champagne.  She  called  to 
them  that  she  would  be  back  directly. 

But  Vandeuvres,  having  caught  sight  of  Labordette,  beckoned 
to  him,  and  a  few  brief  words  passed  between  them. 

"Have  you  picked  up  everything?" 

"Yes." 

"For  how  much?" 

"Fifteen  hundred  louis,  a  little  everywhere." 

As  Nana,  full  of  curiosity,  was  listening,  they  said  no  more. 
Vandeuvres  was  very  nervous,  and  his  clear  eyes  seemed  lighted 
up  with  little  flames  of  fire,  the  same  as  on  the  night  when  he 
frightened  her  by  talking  of  burning  himself  in  his  stable  with 
his  horses.  As  they  crossed  the  course,  she  lowered  her  voice, 
and  said, 

"  I  say,  just  tell  me  this.  Why  has  the  price  of  your  filly  gone 
up?  It's  creating  quite  a  sensation!" 

He  started,  and  exclaimed,  "Ah!  so  everyone's  talking  of  it. 
What  a  set  they  are,  those  betting-men!  When  I've  a  favourite 
they  all  jump  at  it,  and  there's  nothing  left  for  me.  Then,  when 
an  outsider's  inquired  after,  they  clamour  and  cry  out  as  though 
they  were  being  fleeced." 

"Well,  you  know,  you  must  put  me  on  my  guard,  for  I've  been 
betting,  "she  resumed.  "  Has  she  a  chance? ' ' 

A  sudden  rage  overpowered  him,  without  any  apparent  reason. 
"  Eh!  have  the  goodness  not  to  badger  me  any  more.  Every  horse 
has  a  chance.  The  price  has  gone  up,  of  course,  because  some 


NANA 

people  have  been  backing  her!  Who  I  don't  know.  I'd  rather 
leave  you  if  you're  going  to  continue  your  idiotic  questions." 

This  way  of  speaking  was  neither  in  accordance  with  his  usual 
temper  or  habits.  She  felt  more  surprised  than  hurt.  He,  too, 
felt  ashamed  of  himself;  and,  as  she  stiffly  requested  him  to  be 
more  polite,  he  apologised.  For  some  little  time  past  he  had  been 
subject  to  these  sudden  fits  of  temper.  No  one  belonging  to  the 
gallant  world  of  Paris  ignored  that  on  that  day  he  was  playing  his 
last  cards.  If  his  horses  did  not  win,  if  they  lost  him  the  consider- 
able sums  for  which  he  had  backed  them,  it  would  be  not  only  a 
disaster,  but  a  regular  collapse;  the  scaffolding  of  his  credit,  the 
grand  appearances  which  his  undermined  existence,  destroyed  by 
disorders  and  debts,  preserved,  would  tumble  and  noise  his  ruin 
abroad.  And  Nana,  as  everyone  also  knew,  was  the  man-destroyer 
who  had  finished  him,  who  had  been  the  last  to  attack  that  already 
damaged  fortune,  and  had  cleared  off  all  that  remained.  The 
maddest  caprices  imaginable  were  related  —  gold  thrown  to  the 
winds,  an  excursion  to  Baden,  where  she  had  not  even  left  him  the 
money  to  pay  the  hotel  bill,  a  handful  of  diamonds  flung  into  the 
fire  one  night  of  intoxication,  to  see  if  they  would  burn  like  coal. 
Little  by  little,  with  her  big  limbs  and  her  noisy  vulgar  laughter, 
she  had  taken  complete  possession  of  that  heir,  so  impoverished 
and  so  cunning,  of  an  ancient  race.  At  that  hour  he  was  risking 
his  all,  overpowered  by  a  taste  for  what  was  vile  and  idiotic,  that 
had  even  lost  the  strength  of  his  scepticism.  Eight  days  before 
she  had  made  him  promise  her  a  chateau  on  the  Normandy  coast, 
between  Havre  and  Trouville;  and  he  made  it  a  point  of  honour 
to  keep  his  word.  Only,  she  preyed  on  his  nerves;  he  thought  her 
so  stupid  that  he  could  have  beaten  her. 

The  gatekeeper  had  permitted  them  to  enter  the  enclosure, 
not  daring  to  stop  the  woman  on  the  count's  arm.  Nana,  full 
of  pride  on  at  length  placing  her  foot  on  that  forbidden  spot, 
studied  her  poses,  and  walked  slowly  along  in  front  of  the  ladies 
seated  at  the  foot  of  the  stands.  On  ten  rows  of  chairs  there  was 
a  deep  mass  of  elegant  costumes,  blending  their  gay  colours  in 
the  open  air.  Chairs  were  turned  round;  friends  had  formed  into 
groups  just  as  they  chanced  to  meet,  the  same  as  in  some  public 
garden,  with  children  playing  around;  and,  higher  up,  the  tiers 
of  the  stands  were  filled  to  overflowing,  whilst  the  delicate  frame- 
work cast  its  shadows  over  the  light-coloured  garments.  Nana 


cm. 

his 
he 


NANA 

stared  at  the  ladies.  She  made  a  point  of  looking  fixedly  at 
Countess  Sabine.  Then  as  she  passed  in  front  of  the  imperial 
pavilion,  the  sight  of  Muffat,  standing  up  near  the  Empress,  in 
all  his  official  dignity,  amused  her  immensely. 

"Oh!  how  stupid  he  looks!"  said  she  out  loud  to  Vandeuvres. 

She  wished  to  see  everything.  This  bit  of  a  park,  with  its 
lawns  and  its  groups  of  trees,  did  not  strike  her  as  very  interest- 
ing. A  refreshment  contractor  had  set  up  a  large  bar  near  the 
railings.  Beneath  an  immense  circular  thatched  roof,  a  crowd  of 
men  were  shouting  and  gesticulating.  This  was  the  betting  ring. 
Close  by  were  some  empty  horse-boxes;  and  to  her  disappoint- 
ment she  merely  beheld  the  horse  of  a  gendarme.  Then  there  was 
the  paddock,  a  little  more  than  a  hundred  yards  round,  where  a 
stable  lad  was  walking  Valerio  II.,  well  covered  up.  And  that  was 
all !  with  the  exception  of  a  number  of  men  on  the  gravel  paths, 
wearing  their  orange-coloured  tickets  in  their  button-holes,  and  a 
continual  promenade  of  people  in  the  open  galleries  of  the  stands, 
which  interested  her  for  a  moment;  but,  really!  it  wasn't  worth 
while  being  upset,  because  one  was  kept  out  of  there. 

Daguenet  and  Fauchery,  who  were  passing,  bowed  to  her. 
She  beckoned  to  them,  so  they  were  obliged  to  draw  near;  and 
she  launched  out  into  abuse  of  the  enclosure.  Then  interrupting 
herself,  she  exclaimed, 

"Hallo!  there's  the  Marquis  de  Chouard;  how  old  he's  looking! 
He's  doing  for  himself,  the  old  rogue!  Is  he  still  as  unruly  as 
ever?" 

Then  Daguenet  related  the  old*  fellow's  last  prank  —  a  story  of 
the  day  before,  which  had  not  then  got  about.  After  hovering 
around  for  months,  he  had  just  given  Gaga,  it  was  said,  thirty 
thousand  francs  for  her  daughter  Amelie. 

"Well!  it's  abominable!"  exclaimed  Nana  indignantly.  "It's 
a  fine  thing  to  have  daughters!  But,  now  I  think  of  it!  it  must 
have  been  Lili  that  I  saw  over  there  in  a  brougham  with  a  lady. 
I  thought  I  knew  the  face.  The  old  fellow  must  have  brought  her 
out." 

Vandeuvres  was  not  listening,  but  stood  by  impatiently  and 
anxious  to  get  rid  of  her.  However,  Fauchery  having  said  that 
if  she  had  not  seen  the  bookmakers  she  had  not  seen  anything, 
the  count  was  obliged  to  take  her  to  these,  in  spite  of  his  visible 
reluctance.  This  time  she  was  satisfied;  it  was  really  very  curious. 

£313:1 


NANA 

In  an  open  space  composed  of  a  series  of  grass  plots  bordered 
by  young  chestnut  trees,  and  shaded  by  tender  green  leaves,  a 
compact  line  of  bookmakers,  forming  a  vast  circle,  as  though 
at  a  fair,  awaited  those  desirous  of  betting.  In  order  to  overlook 
the  crowd,  they  were  standing  on  wooden  benches.  They  had 
posted  up  their  betting  lists  against  the  trees;  whilst,  with  an 
eye  ever  on  the  watch,  they  at  the  least  sign  made  notes  of  bets 
so  rapidly  that  some  of  the  spectators  gazed  at  them  with  open 
mouths  and  without  comprehending.  All  was  confusion,  odds 
were  shouted  out,  and  exclamations  greeted  the  unexpected 
changes  in  the  prices;  and  now  and  again,  increasing  the  hub- 
bub, scouts  running  at  full  speed  would  arrive  and  call  out  at 
the  top  of  their  voices  the  news  of  a  start  or  a  finish,  which  would 
raise  a  long  murmur  midst  all  that  fever  for  gambling  beneath 
the  shining  sun. 

"How  funny  they  are/*  murmured  Nana,  highly  amused. 
"Their  faces  all  look  as  though  they  were  turned  inside  out. 
You  see  that  big  one  there?  Well,  I  shouldn't  care  to  meet  him 
by  myself  in  the  middle  of  a  wood." 

But  Vandeuvres  pointed  out  to  her  a  bookmaker,  an  assistant 
in  a  draper's  shop,  who  had  made  three  millions  in  two  years. 
Slim,  delicate-looking,  and  fair,  he  was  treated  by  everyone  with 
the  greatest  respect.  He  was  spoken  to  smilingly,  and  people 
stood  by  to  look  at  him. 

They  were  at  last  about  to  leave,  when  Vandeuvres  nodded 
to  another  bookmaker,  who  thereupon  ventured  to  call  to  him. 
He  was  one  of  his  old  coachmen  —  an  enormous  fellow  with 
shoulders  like  an  ox,  and  a  very  red  face.  Now  that  he  was  tempt- 
ing fortune  on  the  race-course,  with  a  capital  of  doubtful  origin, 
the  count  gave  him  a  helping  hand,  commissioning  him  with  his 
secret  betting,  and  always  treating  him  as  a  servant  from  whom 
one  has  nothing  to  hide.  In  spite  of  this  protection,  the  fellow 
had  lost  some  very  heavy  sums  one  after  another,  and  he  also 
was  playing  his  last  card  on  that  day,  his  eyes  all  blood-shot,  and 
himself  on  the  verge  of  a  fit  of  apoplexy. 

"Well,  Marechal,"  asked  Vandeuvres,  in  a  low  voice,  "how 
much  have  you  against?" 

"  Five  thousand  louis,  sir,"  replied  the  bookmaker,  also  speak- 
ing low.  "That's  good,  isn't  it?  I  must  admit  that  I've  lowered 
the  price.  I've  laid  the  odds  at  three  to  one." 

C'3143 


NANA 

Vandeuvres  looked  greatly  annoyed.  "No,  no;  I  won't  have 
it.  Put  it  back  at  two  to  one  at  once.  I  will  never  tell  you  any- 
thing again,  Marechal." 

"Oh,  but  what  can  that  matter  to  you  now,  sir?"  resumed  the 
other,  with  the  humble  smile  of  a  confederate.  "  I  had  to  attract 
the  people  so  as  to  place  your  two  thousand  louis." 

Then  Vandeuvres  made  him  give  over;  but,  as  he  went  away, 
Marechal,  recollecting  something,  regretted  that  he  had  not  ques- 
tioned him  respecting  his  filly's  rise  in  price.  He  was  in  a  pretty 
mess  if  the  filly  had  a  chance,  for  he  had  taken  two  hundred 
louis  about  her,  laying  fifty  to  one  against. 

Nana  could  not  make  anything  out  of  the  words  whispered  by 
the  count,  but  she  did  not  dare  question  him  again.  He  seemed 
more  nervous  than  ever,  and  abruptly  placed  her  under  the  care 
of  Labordette,  whom  they  found  waiting  at  the  entrance  to  the 
weighing  place. 

"You  must  take  her  back,"  said  he.  "I  have  something  to 
attend  to.  Good-bye." 

And  he  went  inside.  It  was  a  narrow  apartment,  with  a  low 
ceiling,  and  almost  filled  with  a  big  weighing  machine.  It  was 
like  the  room  where  luggage  is  weighed  at  a  small  suburban 
station.  Nana  was  again  greatly  disappointed.  She  had  figured 
to  herself  a  very  vast  affair  —  a  monumental  apparatus  for 
weighing  the  horses.  What!  they  only  weighed  the  jockeys! 
Then  there  was  no  need  to  make  such  a  fuss  about  it.  Seated 
in  the  scales,  a  jockey,  looking  an  awful  fool,  with  his  saddle 
and  harness  on  his  knees,  was  waiting  till  a  stout  man  in  an  over- 
coat had  taken  his  weight;  whilst  a  stable  lad,  at  the  door,  held 
the  horse,  Cosinus,  around  which  the  crowd  gathered,  silent  and 
wrapped  in  thought. 

They  were  clearing  the  course.  Labordette  hurried  Nana,  but 
he  returned  a  few  steps  to  show  her  a  little  fellow  talking  to 
Vandeuvres  apart  from  the  others. 

"Look,  there's  Price,"  said  he. 

"Ah!  yes,  he  rides  me,"  she  murmured  with  a  laugh. 

She  thought  him  very  ugly.  To  her  all  the  jockeys  looked  like 
fools,  no  doubt,  said  she,  because  they  were  not  allowed  to  grow. 
That  one,  a  man  of  forty,  had  the  appearance  of  an  old,  dried-up 
child,  with  a  long,  thin  face,  looking  hard  and  death-like  and 
full  of  wrinkles.  His  body  was  so  knotty,  so  reduced,  that 


NANA 

the  blue  jacket  with  white  sleeves  seemed  to  cover  a  piece  of 
wood. 

"No,"  she  resumed  as  they  moved  away,  "you  know  he  isn't 
my  fancy." 

A  mob  still  crowded  the  course,  the  wet  trodden  grass  of  which 
looked  almost  black.  The  crowd  pressed  in  front  of  the  boards, 
placed  very  high  up  on  iron  posts,  which  exhibited  the  numbers 
of  the  starters,  and  with  raised  heads,  greeted  uproariously  each 
number  that  an  electric  wire,  communicating  with  the  weighing 
place,  made  appear.  Some  gentlemen  were  ticking  their  racing 
cards;  Pichenette  having  been  scratched  by  his  owner,  caused 
a  slight  commotion.  Nana,  however,  simply  passed  by  on  Labor- 
dette's  arm.  The  bell  was  ringing  persistently  for  the  course  to 
be  cleared. 

"Ah!  my  friends,"  said  she  as  she  re-entered  her  landau,  "it's 
all  humbug,  their  enclosure." 

Everyone  about  her  applauded  her  return.  "Bravo,  Nana! 
Nana  is  restored  to  us!"  How  stupid  they  were!  Did  they 
think  her  one  to  give  them  the  slip?  She  returned  at  the  right 
time.  Attention!  it  was  going  to  begin.  And  the  champagne  was 
forgotten,  everyone  left  off  drinking.  But  Nana  was  surprised 
to  find  Gaga  in  her  carriage,  with  Bijou  and  little  Louis  on  her 
knees.  Gaga  had  come  there  for  the  sake  of  being  near  La  Faloise, 
though  she  pretended  that  she  had  done  so  because  she  so  longed 
to  kiss  the  baby.  She  adored  children. 

"Ah!  by  the  way,  and  Lili?"  asked  Nana.  "It's  she,  is  it  not, 
in  that  old  fellow's  brougham  over  there?  I've  just  been  told 
something  that  isn't  very  creditable." 

Gaga  assumed  a  most  grieved  expression  of  countenance. 

"My  dear,  it  has  made  me  quite  ill,"  said  she  woefully.  "I 
cried  so  much  yesterday,  I  was  obliged  to  keep  my  bed  all  day, 
and  even  this  morning  I  was  afraid  I  should  not  be  able  to  come. 
Well,  you  know  what  my  notion  was.  I  did  not  wish  her  to  do 
as  she  has  done;  I  had  her  brought  up  in  a  convent,  and  intended 
getting  her  well  married.  And  she  always  had  the  best  advice, 
and  was  constantly  looked  after.  Well,  my  dear!  she  would  have 
her  own  way.  Oh!  we  had  such  a  scene  —  bitter  tears,  unpleasant 
words,  until  it  ended  by  my  slapping  her  face.  She  felt  so  dull, 
she  would  try  the  change.  Then  when  she  took  it  into  her  head 
to  say,  '  It's  not  you,  anyhow,  who  have  the  right  to  prevent  me,' 

C3I63 


NANA 

I  said  to  her,  'You're  a  wretch,  you  dishonour  us,  be  off!'  And 
so  off  she  went,  but  I  consented  to  make  the  best  arrangement  I 
could  for  her.  However,  there's  my  last  hope  gone;  and  I  had 
been  planning,  ah!  such  grand  things!" 

The  sounds  of  a  quarrel  caused  them  to  stand  up.  It  was 
George  who  was  defending  Vandeuvres  against  several  vague 
rumours  that  were  passing  from  group  to  group. 

"How  absurd  to  say  that  he  no  longer  believes  in  his  horse!" 
exclaimed  the  young  man.  "Only  yesterday,  at  the  club,  he 
backed  Lusignan  to  the  extent  of  a  thousand  louis." 

"Yes,  I  was  there,"  added  Philippe.  "And  he  didn't  back 
Nana  for  a  single  louis.  If  Nana's  got  to  ten  to  one,  it's  not 
owing  to  him.  It's  ridiculous  to  give  people  credit  for  so  much 
calculation.  Besides,  what  interest  could  he  have  in  behaving 
so?" 

Labordette  listened  in  a  quiet  sort  of  way,  and,  shrugging  his 
shoulders,  observed, 

"Let  them  say  what  they  like,  they  must  talk  of  something. 
The  count  has  just  laid  another  five  hundred  louis  at  least  on 
Lusignan,  and  if  he's  backed  Nana  for  a  hundred  it's  merely 
because  an  owner  must  show  some  faith  in  his  horses." 

"What  the  devil  can  it  matter  to  us?"  yelled  La  Faloise,  wav- 
ing his  arms.  "Spirit  will  win.  France  is  nowhere!  Bravo, 
England!" 

A  tremor  passed  slowly  through  the  crowd,  whilst  a  fresh  peal 
of  the  bell  announced  the  arrival  of  the  horses  at  the  starting- 
place.  Then  Nana,  to  obtain  a  better  view,  stood  up  on  one  of 
the  seats  of  her  landau,  treading  on  the  bouquets  of  forget-me- 
nots  and  roses.  With  a  glance  round,  she  took  in  the  vast  horizon. 
At  this  last  moment,  when  the  excitement  was  at  fever  heat,  she 
beheld  first  of  all  the  empty  course,  enclosed  by  its  grey  barriers, 
along  which  policemen  were  stationed  at  intervals,  and  the  broad 
band  of  muddy  grass  before  her  became  greener  and  greener  in  the 
distance,  until  it  merged  into  a  soft  velvety  carpet.  Then,  as 
she  lowered  her  eyes  and  gazed  around  in  her  immediate  vicinity, 
she  saw  an  ever-moving  crowd  standing  on  tip-toe  or  clamber- 
ing on  to  the  vehicles,  excited  and  animated  by  the  same  passion, 
with  the  horses  neighing,  the  refreshment  tents  shaking  in  the 
wind,  and  riders  urging  on  their  steeds  in  the  midst  of  the  foot 
passengers  hastening  to  the  barriers;  whilst,  when  she  looked 

C3I73 


NANA 

at  the  stands  on  the  other  side  of  the  course,  the  people  seemed 
smaller,  the  mass  of  heads  appeared  merely  a  medley  of  colours 
filling  the  paths,  the  benches,  and  the  terraces,  beneath  the 
dull  sky. 

And  she  could  see  the  plain  beyond.  Behind  the  ivy-covered 
windmill,  to  the  right,  there  was  a  background  of  meadows,  in- 
tersected with  plantations;  in  front,  as  far  as  the  Seine,  which 
flowed  at  the  foot  of  the  hill,  park-like  avenues,  along  which  in- 
terminable rows  of  immovable  vehicles  were  waiting,  crossed  each 
other;  then  on  the  left,  towards  Boulogne,  the  country  spreading 
out  again,  opened  into  a  view  of  the  bluey  heights  of  Meudon, 
intercepted  only  by  a  row  of  pawlonias,  the  rosy  tufts  of  which, 
without  a  single  leaf,  formed  a  sheet  of  vivid  crimson.  People 
still  continued  to  arrive,  numbers  were  hastening  from  over  there 
looking  like  so  many  ants  as  they  wended  their  way  along  a  nar- 
row path  which  crossed  the  fields;  whilst  far  off,  in  the  direction 
of  Paris,  the  spectators  who  did  not  pay,  a  host  who  camped  out 
in  the  wood,  formed  a  long  black  moving  line  under  the  trees  on 
the  outskirts  of  the  Bois. 

But  suddenly  a  feeling  of  gaiety  excited  the  hundred  thousand 
souls  who  covered  that  bit  of  a  field  with  a  commotion  of  insects 
disporting  themselves  beneath  the  vast  sky.  The  sun,  which  had 
been  hidden  for  the  last  quarter  of  an  hour,  reappeared  and 
shone  in  a  flood  of  light,  and  everything  sparkled  once  more. 
The  women's  parasols  looked  like  innumerable  shields  of 
gold  above  the  crowd.  Everyone  applauded  the  sun,  gay  laugh- 
ter saluted  it,  and  arms  were  thrust  out  to  draw  aside  the 
clouds. 

At  this  moment  a  police  officer  appeared  walking  alone  along 
the  centre  of  the  now  deserted  course.  Higher  up,  towards  the 
left,  a  man  could  be  seen  holding  a  red  flag  in  his  hand. 

"That's  the  starter,  the  Baron  de  Mauriac,"  replied  Labordette 
to  a  question  of  Nana's. 

Among  the  men  surrounding  the  young  woman,  and  who 
pressed  even  on  to  the  steps  of  her  landau,  there  arose  a  hubbub 
of  exclamations,  of  sentences  left  unfinished,  in  the  flush  of  first 
impressions.  Philippe  and  George,  Bordenave,  La  Faloise  could 
not  keep  quiet. 

"Don't  push!"  —  "Let  me  see!"  —  "Ah!  the  judge  is  entering 
his  box."  —  "Did  you  say  it  was  M.  de  Souvigny?"  —  "I  say,  he 


NANA 

must  have  good  eyes  to  decide  a  close  contest  from  such  a 
place!"—  "Do  be  quiet,  they're  hoisting  the  flag."—  "Here 
they  come  —  look  out!"  —  "The  first  one  is  Cosinus." 

A  red  and  yellow  flag  waved  in  the  air  from  the  top  of  the 
starting-post.  The  horses  arrived  one  by  one,  led  by  stable  lads, 
the  jockeys  in  the  saddle,  their  arms  hanging  down,  and  looking 
mere  bright  specks  in  the  sunshine.  After  Cosinus,  Hasard  and 
Bourn  appeared.  Then  a  murmur  greeted  Spirit,  a  tall,  hand- 
some bay,  whose  harsh  colours,  lemon  and  black,  had  a  Britannic 
sadness.  Valerio  II.  met  with  a  grand  reception.  He  was  a 
lively  little  animal,  and  the  colours  were  pale  green,  edged  with 
pink.  Vandeuvres's  two  horses  were  a  long  time  making  their 
appearance.  At  length,  the  blue  and  white  colours  were  seen 
following  Frangipane;  but  Lusignan,  a  very  dark  bay  of  irre- 
proachable form,  was  almost  forgotten  in  the  surprise  created  by 
Nana's  appearance.  No  one  had  ever  before  seen  her  thus.  The 
sunshine  gave  to  the  chestnut  filly  the  golden  hue  of  a  fair-haired 
girl.  She  glittered  in  the  light  like  a  new  louis,  with  her  deep 
chest,  her  graceful  head  and  neck  and  shoulders,  and  her  long, 
nervous,  delicate  back. 

"Why!  she  has  hair  the  colour  of  mine!"  exclaimed  Nana, 
delighted.  "  I  feel  quite  proud  of  her!" 

They  all  climbed  on  to  the  landau.  Bordenave  almost  trod  on 
little  Louis,  whom  his  mother  had  forgetten.  He  caught  hold  of 
him,  grumbling  in  a  paternal  manner,  and,  lifting  him  on  to  his 
shoulder,  he  murmured, 

"Poor  young  'un,  he  must  see  too.  Wait  a  minute  and  I'll 
show  you  your  mamma.  There!  over  there  —  look  at  the  gee- 
gee." 

And  as  Bijou  was  scratching  his  legs  he  lifted  him  up  also, 
whilst  Nana,  delighted  with  the  animal  that  bore  her  name, 
glanced  at  the  other  women  to  see  how  they  took  it.  They  were 
all  madly  jealous.  At  this  moment  old  Tricon,  on  her  cab,  im- 
movable until  then,  waved  her  hands,  and  shouted  some  instruc- 
tions to  a  bookmaker  over  the  crowd.  Her  instinct  prompted 
her.  She  backed  Nana. 

La  Faloise  was  making  an  unbearable  row,  however.  He  was 
quite  smitten  with  Frangipane.  "I've  an  inspiration,"  he  cried. 
"Just  look  at  Frangipane.  See  what  go  there  is  in  him!  I  take 
Frangipane  at  eight  to  one.  Who'll  bet?" 

£319:1 


NANA 

"Do  be  quiet,"  Labordette  ended  by  saying.  "You'll  only 
regret  it  all  by-and-by." 

" Frangipane's  a  jade,"  declared  Philippe.  "He  is  already  wet 
with  perspiration.  Look!  they're  going  to  canter." 

The  horses  had  turned  to  the  right,  and  they  started  on  their 
preliminary  canter,  passing  in  front  of  the  grand  stand  in  a  dis- 
ordered crowd.  Then  the  excited  remarks  broke  out  again; 
every  one  spoke  at  the  same  time. 

"Lusignan  is  in  good  condition,  but  he  is  too  long  in  the 
back." 

—  "You  know,  not  a  farthing  on  Valerio  II.    He  is  nervous;   he 
holds  his  head  too  high  —  it's  a  bad  sign."  —  "Hallo!  it's  Burne 
who  is  riding  Spirit."  —  "I  tell  you  he  has  no  shoulder.    A  good 
shoulder  means  everything."  "No,  Spirit  is  decidedly  too  quiet." 

—  "  Listen,  I  saw  Nana  after  the  race  for  the  Grande  Poule  des 
Produits.    She  was  soaking  her  coat  as  though  dead,  and  breath- 
ing fit  to  burst.     Twenty  louis  she  isn't  placed!"    -"Enough! 
enough!  what  a  confounded  nuisance  he  is  with  his  Frangipane! 
It's  too  late;  they're  going  to  start." 

La  Faloise,  almost  crying,  was  struggling  to  get  to  a  book- 
maker. The  others  had  to  reason  with  him.  All  the  necks  were 
stretched  out.  But  the  first  start  was  not  a  good  one;  the 
starter,  who  in  the  distance  looked  like  a  thin  black  stick, 
had  not  lowered  his  red  flag.  The  horses  returned  to  the  post 
after  a  short  gallop.  There  were  two  other  false  starts.  At 
length  the  starter,  getting  the  horses  all  well  together,  sent  them 
off  with  a  skill  that  won  admiration  on  all  sides. 

"Magnificent  start!"  —  "No,  it  is  chance!"  — "Never  mind, 
they're  off!" 

The  noise  died  away  in  the  anxiety  which  filled  every  breast. 
Now,  the  betting  ceased;  the  game  was  being  played  on  the 
immense  course.  Complete  silence  reigned  at  last,  as  though  all 
breathing  was  suspended.  Faces  were  raised,  white  and  trem- 
bling. At  the  start  Hasard  and  Cosinus  had  made  the  running, 
leading  all  the  others.  Valerio  II.  followed  close  behind  them; 
the  rest  came  on  in  a  confused  mass.  When  they  passed  in  front 
of  the  stands,  shaking  the  earth,  and  with  the  sudden  gust  of 
wind  caused  by  their  immense  speed,  the  group  had  stretched 
out  to  fully  forty  lengths.  Frangipane  was  last.  Nana  was  a 
little  behind  Lusignan  and  Spirit. 

£3203 


NANA 

"The  deuce!"  murmured  Labordette;  "the  English  one  is 
picking  his  way  well  through  them!" 

Everyone  in  the  landau  had  something  to  say  —  some  ex- 
clamation to  utter.  All  stood  upon  tiptoe,  and  watched  intently 
the  bright  colours  of  the  jockeys  borne  along  in  the  sunshine. 
As  they  ascended  the  incline,  Valerio  II.  took  the  lead.  Cosinus 
and  Hasard  were  losing  ground,  whilst  Lusignan  and  Spirit,  neck 
and  neck,  were  still  followed  closely  by  Nana. 

"Damn  it!  the  English  horse  has  won,  that's  quite  plain,"  said 
Bordenave.  "Lusignan  is  tiring,  and  Valerio  II.  can't  stay." 

"Well!  it  is  disgusting  if  the  English  horse  wins!"  exclaimed 
Philippe,  in  a  burst  of  patriotic  grief. 

A  feeling  of  anguish  gradually  overwhelmed  that  mob  of 
people.  Another  defeat!  And  a  wish  of  extraordinary  ardour, 
amounting  almost  to  a  prayer,  for  Lusignan's  success  was  in- 
wardly expressed  by  all;  whilst  they  abused  Spirit  and  his  funereal- 
looking  jockey.  The  crowd,  scattered  over  the  grass,  broke  up 
into  bands  who  were  running  with  all  their  might.  Horsemen 
galloped  swiftly  over  the  ground.  And  Nana,  turning  slowly 
round,  beheld  at  her  feet  that  surging  mob  of  men  and  animals 
—  that  sea  of  heads  looking  as  though  dashed  about  and  carried 
along  the  course  by  the  vortex  of  the  race,  streaking  the  bright 
horizon  of  the  jockeys.  She  watched  the  fast-stepping  legs, 
which,  as  the  distance  increased,  assumed  the  slenderness  of 
hairs.  Now,  at  the  farthest  limit  of  the  circle,  she  saw  them 
sideways,  looking  so  small  and  slight  against  the  green  back- 
ground of  the  Bois.  Then  suddenly  they  disappeared  behind  a 
large  cluster  of  trees  close  to  the  course. 

"Don't  despair!"  cried  George,  still  full  of  hope.  "It's  not 
over  yet.  The  English  horse  is  caught. " 

But  La  Faloise,  again  overcome  by  his  disdain  for  the  national 
cause,  became  quite  scandalous  in  his  applause  of  Spirit.  Bravo! 
it  served  them  right!  France  was  in  need  of  the  lesson!  Spirit 
first,  and  Frangipane  second!  it  would  aggravate  his  fatherland! 
Labordette,  whom  he  thoroughly  exasperated,  seriously  threat- 
ened to  throw  him  out  of  the  carriage. 

"We'll  see  how  long  they  take,"  quietly  observed  Bordenave, 
who,  with  little  Louis  on  his  shoulder,  had  pulled  out  his  watch. 

One  by  one  the  horses  reappeared  from  behind  the  clump  of 
trees.  Then  the  crowd  uttered  a  long  murmur  of  amazement. 

C32I] 


NANA 

Valeric  II.  still  had  the  lead,  but  Spirit  was  gaining  on  him,  and 
Lusignan,  who  was  next,  had  given  way,  whilst  another  horse 
was  taking  his  place.  The  spectators  could  not  understand  it  at 
first;  they  mixed  up  the  colours.  Exclamations  arose  on  all  sides. 

"But  it  is  Nana!"  --  "Nana?  absurd!  I  tell  you  Lusignan  still 
keeps  his  place/'  —  "Yes,  it  is,  though,  it  is  Nana!  It  is  easy  to 
recognise  her  by  her  golden  colour."  —  "There!  look  at  her  now! 
She  seems  all  on  fire."  —  "Bravo,  Nana!  there's  an  artful  minx 
for  you!"  —  "Bah!  it's  nothing.  She's  only  making  the  running 
for  Lusignan." 

For  some  seconds  that  was  the  general  opinion.  But  the  filly 
slowly  continued  to  gain  ground  in  a  continued  effort.  Then  an 
immense  emotion  seized  upon  all.  The  horses  in  the  rear  no 
longer  excited  the  smallest  interest.  A  last  struggle  began  be- 
tween Spirit,  Nana,  Lusignan,  and  Valerio  II.  Their  names  were 
on  the  lips  of  everyone,  their  progress  or  their  falling  off  was 
proclaimed  in  short  disconnected  sentences.  And  Nana,  who  had 
climbed  on  to  the  coachman's  seat,  as  though  lifted  up  by  some 
invisible  power,  was  all  pale  and  trembling,  and  so  deeply  moved 
that  she  could  not  say  a  word.  Labordette,  close  beside  her,  was 
once  more  smiling. 

"Well,  the  English  horse  is  in  difficulties,"  said  Philippe,  joy- 
fully. "He  is  not  going  so  well." 

"Anyhow,  Lusignan  is  done  for,"  cried  La  Faloise.  "Valerio  II. 
leads  the  way.  Look!  there  they  are,  the  whole  four  of  them, 
close  together." 

The  same  words  came  from  every  throat:  "What  a  rate  they're 
going  at!  Oh!  what  a  frightful  rate!" 

Nana  now  beheld  the  group  coming  towards  her  like  a  flash  of 
lightning.  You  could  feel  their  approach,  and  almost  their  breath- 
ing, a  distant  roar  which  grew  louder  and  louder  every  second. 
The  whole  crowd  impetuously  rushed  to  the  barriers,  and,  pre- 
ceding the  horses,  a  heavy  clamour  escaped  from  every  chest, 
coming  nearer  and  nearer,  with  a  sound  like  the  ocean  breaking 
on  the  shore.  It  was  the  final  outburst  of  brutal  passion  aroused 
by  a  colossal  venture,  a  hundred  thousand  spectators  with  one 
fixed  idea,  burning  with  the  same  hankering  for  luck,  following 
with  their  eyes  those  animals  whose  gallop  carried  off  millions. 
They  shoved  and  trampled  on  one  another,  with  clinched  fists 
and  open  mouths,  each  one  for  himself,  and  urging  on  his  fa- 

1:3223 


NANA 

vourite  with  his  voice  and  gestures.  And  the  cry  of  this  vast 
multitude,  which  was  like  the  roar  of  some  savage  beast,  became 
more  and  more  distinct. 

"Here  they  come!  —  here  they  come!  — here  they  come!" 

But  Nana  continued  to  gain  ground;  now  Valerio  II.  was  dis- 
tanced, and  she  led  with  Spirit  by  two  or  three  necks.  The 
rumbling  noise  resembling  thunder  increased.  As  they  came  on, 
a  tempest  of  oaths  greeted  them  from  the  landau. 

"Gee  up,  Lusignan!  you  big  coward,  you  sorry  beast!"  — 
"Look  at  the  English  one!  isn't  he  grand?  Go  it,  old  fellow,  go 
it!"  —  "And  that  Valerio,  it's  disgusting!"  —  "Ah!  the  carrion! 
my  ten  louis  are  nowhere  now!"  — "There's  only  Nana  in  it! 
Bravo,  Nana!  bravo,  little  slut!" 

And  Nana,  on  the  coachman's  box,  was  swinging  her  hips  and 
thighs,  without  knowing  she  did  so,  as  though  she  herself  was 
running.  She  kept  protruding  her  body,  under  the  notion  that  it 
helped  the  filly  along;  and  each  time  she  did  so  she  sighed  wearily, 
and  said,  in  a  low,  painful  tone  of  voice, 

"Go  it  — go  it  — go  it." 

A  grand  sight  was  then  beheld.  Price,  erect  in  the  stirrups, 
his  whip  raised,  flogged  Nana  with  an  iron  arm.  That  old,  dried- 
up  child,  that  long  figure,  usually  looking  so  hard  and  dead, 
seemed  shooting  sparks  of  fire;  and,  in  a  burst  of  furious  audacity, 
of  triumphant  will,  he  instilled  some  of  his  own  spirit  into  the 
filly.  He  kept  her  up,  he  carried  her  along,  covered  with  foam, 
and  with  eyes  all  bloody.  The  cluster  of  horses  passed  like  a 
flash  of  lightning,  sweeping  the  air,  taking  away  the  breath  of 
all  who  saw  them;  whilst  the  judge,  on  the  lookout,  calmly 
awaited.  Then  there  arose  an  immense  cheer.  With  a  final 
effort  Price  had  lifted  Nana  to  the  post,  beating  Spirit  by  a  head. 

The  clamour  that  burst  forth  was  like  the  roar  of  the  rising 
tide.  "Nana!  Nana!  Nana!"  The  cry  rolled  and  grew  with  the 
violence  of  a  tempest,  gradually  filling  the  air,  from  the  inner- 
most recesses  of  the  Bois  to  Mount  Valerien,  from  the  meadows 
of  Longchamps  to  the  plain  of  Boulogne.  Around  Nana's  landau 
a  mad  enthusiasm  was  displayed.  "Long  live  Nana!  Long  live 
France!  Down  with  England!"  The  woman  waved  their  para- 
sols. Some  men  sprung  into  the  air,  and  turned  round  vociferat- 
ing; others,  laughing  nervously,  flung  up  their  hats.  And  on  the 
other  side  of  the  course  the  crowd  in  the  enclosure  responded.  An 


V 


NANA 

agitation  passed  through  the  stands,  without  one  being  able  to 
discern  anything  distinctly,  beyond  a  commotion  of  the  air  (like 
the  invisible  flame  of  a  brazier)  above  that  living  heap  of  little 
chaotic  figures,  twisting  their  arms  about,  with  black  specks  in- 
dicating their  eyes  and  open  mouths.  The  cry  continued  un- 
ceasingly, growing  in  intensity,  caught  up  in  the  distance  by  the 
people  camping  beneath  the  trees,  to  spread  again  and  increase 
itself  with  the  emotion  of  the  imperial  stand,  where  the  Empress 
joined  in  the  applause.  "Nana!  Nana!  Nana!"  The  shout  rose 
beneath  the  glorious  sun,  which  stimulated  the  delirium  of  the 
crowd  with  a  shower  of  gold. 

Then  Nana,  standing  on  the  box-seat  of  her  landau,  stretched 
to  her  full  height,  thought  it  was  she  that  they  were  applauding. 
For  an  instant  she  stood  immovable  in  the  astonishment  of  her 
triumph,  watching  the  course  invaded  by  a  host  so  compact,  by 
such  a  sea  of  black  hats,  that  the  grass  could  no  longer  be  seen. 
Then,  when  all  that  mob  had  taken  up  its  position,  leaving  a 
narrow  passage  to  the  entrance  of  the  course,  acclaiming  Nana 
again  as  she  retired  with  Price,  broken  in  appearance,  lifeless, 
and  as  though  empty,  the  young  woman  violently  slapped  her 
thighs,  forgetting  everything  as  she  gave  vent  to  her  triumph  in 
the  coarsest  language. 

"Ah!  damn  it  all!  it's  me,  though.    Ah!  damn  it  all!  what  luck!" 

And  not  knowing  how  to  show  the  joy  that  was  overwhelming 
her,  she  seized  hold  of  and  kissed  little  Louis,  whom  she  had  just 
caught  sight  of  on  Bordenave's  shoulder. 

"Three  minutes  and  fourteen  seconds,"  said  the  latter,  putting 
his  watch  back  into  his  pocket. 

Nana  still  listened  to  her  name  with  which  the  whole  plain 
resounded.  It  was  her  people  who  applauded  her,  whilst,  in  a 
straight  line  with  the  sun,  she  throned  over  them,  with  her  hair 
shining  like  a  star,  and  her  blue  and  white  dress  of  the  colour  of 
the  heavens.  Labordette,  before  hastening  away,  told  her  that 
she  had  won  two  thousand  louis,  for  he  had  placed  her  fifty  louis 
on  Nana  at  forty  to  one.  But  the  money  affected  her  less  than 
that  unexpected  victory,  the  splendour  of  which  made  her  queen 
of  Paris.  The  other  women  had  all  lost.  Rose  Mignon,  in  a  fit 
of  passion,  had  broken  her  parasol;  and  Caroline  Hequet,  and 
Clarisse,  and  Simone,  and  even  Lucy  Stewart,  in  spite  of  her 
son's  presence,  all  swore  in  an  undertone,  exasperated  by  that 

£324:1 


NANA 

big  girl's  luck;  whilst  old  Tricon,  who  had  crossed  herself  both 
at  the  start  and  the  finish  of  the  race,  towered  above  them  to  the 
full  height  of  her  tall  body,  delighted  at  her  discernment,  and  like 
an  experienced  matron  canonizing  Nana. 

Around  the  landau,  however,  the  rush  of  men  increased.  The 
band  had  uttered  the  most  ferocious  yells.  George,  almost 
choked,  continued  to  shout  by  himself  in  a  broken  voice.  As 
the  champagne  ran  short,  Philippe,  taking  the  two  grooms  with 
him,  hastened  off  to  the  refreshment  tents.  And  Nana's  court 
grew  larger  and  larger;  her  triumph  determined  the  laggards. 
The  movement  which  had  made  her  landau  the  central  object 
ended  in  an  apotheosis  —  Queen  Venus  surrounded  by  her  de- 
lirious subjects.  Behind  her,  Bordenave  was  muttering  oaths 
with  the  tender  feelings  of  a  father.  Steiner  himself,  reconquered, 
had  left  Simone,  and  was  hanging  on  to  one  of  the  carriage  steps. 
When  the  champagne  arrived,  when  she  raised  her  glass  full  of 
wine,  the  applause  was  so  deafening  —  the  cries  of  "Nana!  Nana! 
Nana!"  were  so  loud  —  that  the  amazed  multitude  looked  around, 
expecting  to  see  the  filly;  and  one  no  longer  knew  whether  it  was 
the  animal  or  the  woman  who  most  filled  the  men's  hearts. 

Mignon  hastened  to  her,  in  spite  of  Rose's  black  looks.  The 
confounded  girl  put  him  quite  beside  himself;  he  must  embrace 
her.  Then  after  he  had  kissed  her  on  both  cheeks,  he  said  pa- 
ternally, 

"What  bothers  me  is  that  Rose  will  now,  for  certain,  send  the 
letter.  She's  in  such  a  rage." 

"So  much  the  better!  That's  just  what  I  want!"  said  Nana, 
forgetting  herself.  But  seeing  him  lost  in  astonishment  at  her 
words,  she  hastened  to  add,  "No,  no,  whatever  am  I  saying? 
Really,  I  no  longer  know  what  I  say!  I'm  tipsy." 

And  indeed,  she  was  intoxicated  with  joy  and  with  the  sun- 
shine, as  with  her  glass  raised  on  high,  she  applauded  herself. 

"To  Nana!  to  Nana!"  cried  she,  in  the  midst  of  a  still  greater 
increase  of  uproar,  laughter  and  cheers,  which  little  by  little, 
gained  the  entire  race-course. 

The  races  were  drawing  to  a  close;  they  were  now  running  for 
the  Vaublanc  Prize.  Vehicles  were  departing  one  by  one.  Van- 
deuvres's  name  was  frequently  uttered  in  the  midst  of  squabbles. 
Now,  it  was  clear.  For  two  years  past,  Vandeuvres  had  been 
preparing  for  this  exploit  by  always  instructing  Gresham  to  pull 

C3253 


NANA 

Nana;  and  he  had  only  produced  Lusignan  to  make  the  running 
for  the  filly.  The  losers  lost  their  tempers,  whilst  the  winners 
shrugged  their  shoulders.  What  next?  it  was  all  right.  An  owner 
could  manage  his  stable  as  he  chose.  There  had  been  much 
queerer  things  done  than  that!  The  greater  number  of  people 
considered  Vandeuvres  very  smart,  to  have  secured  through  his 
friends  all  he  could  possibly  get  on  Nana,  which  had  explained 
the  sudden  rise  in  her  price;  they  talked  of  two  thousand  louis, 
at  an  average  of  thirty  to  one,  which  meant  a  gain  of  twelve 
hundred  thousand  francs,  a  sum  so  large  that  it  commanded  re- 
spect, and  excused  everything. 

But  other  rumours,  very  grave  ones,  which  were  whispered 
about,  came  from  the  enclosure.  The  men  who  returned  from 
there  brought  details.  Voices  were  raised  as  they  related  the 
particulars  of  a  frightful  scandal  —  that  poor  Vandeuvres  was 
done  for.  He  had  spoilt  his  superb  hit  by  a  piece  of  arrant  stu- 
pidity, an  idiotic  robbery,  in  commissioning  Marechal,  a  book- 
maker, whose  affairs  were  in  a  very  queer  state,  to  place  on  his 
account  two  thousand  louis  against  Lusignan,  just  for  the  sake 
of  getting  back  his  thousand  and  odd  louis,  which  he  had  openly 
bet  on  the  horse,  a  mere  nothing;  and  that  was  the  fatal  crack 
in  the  midst  of  his  already  tottering  fortunes.  The  bookmaker, 
warned  that  the  favourite  would  not  win,  had  made  about  sixty 
thousand  francs  by  the  horse;  only,  Labordette,  not  having  re- 
ceived exact  and  detailed  instructions,  had  gone  and  placed  with 
him  two  hundred  Jouis  on  Nana,  which  he,  in  his  ignorance  of 
what  was  going  to  be  done,  continued  to  lay  at  fifty  to  one  against. 
Done  out  of  one  hundred  thousand  francs  by  the  filly,  with  a 
clear  loss  of  forty  thousand,  Marechal,  who  felt  everything  giving 
way  beneath  him,  had  suddenly  understood  all  on  seeing  Labor- 
dette and  the  count  conversing  together  after  the  race  in  front  of 
the  weighing  place;  and  with  the  fury  of  an  old  coachman,  and 
the  rough  manner  of  a  man  who  has  been  robbed,  he  had  just 
created  a  frightful  disturbance  before  every  one,  telling  the  story 
in  most  atrocious  language,  and  gathering  a  mob  around  him. 
It  was  added  that  the  stewards  were  about  to  inquire  into  the 
matter. 

Nana,  whom  Philippe  and  George  were  quietly  informing  of 
what  had  happened,  kept  making  reflections,  without,  however, 
ceasing  to  laugh  and  to  drink.  It  was,  after  all,  very  likely,  she 

£326:1 


NANA 

recollected  certain  things,  and  then,  that  Marechal  was  a  horrid 
fellow.  Yet  she  still  doubted,  when  Labordette  appeared.  He 
was  very  pale. 

"Well?"  queried  she,  in  a  low  voice. 

"It's  all  up  with  him!"  he  replied,  simply. 

And  he  shrugged  his  shoulders.  He  had  acted  like  a  child, 
this  Vandeuvres!  She  made  a  gesture  of  being  bored. 

That  night,  at  Mabille,  Nana  met  with  a  colossal  success. 
When  she  arrived,  towards  ten  o'clock,  the  uproar  was  already 
formidable.  This  classic  night  of  folly  gathered  together  all  the 
gallant  youth  of  the  capital,  an  aristocratic  company  indulging  in 
horse-play  and  a  stupidity  worthy  of  lackeys.  There  was  quite  a 
crush  beneath  the  garlands  of  flaring  gas-jets,  a  mass  of  dress 
suits,  of  extravagant  costumes;  women  with  bare  shoulders  in 
old  dresses  only  fit  for  soiling,  walked  round  and  yelled,  stimu- 
lated by  drinking  on  a  gigantic  scale.  At  thirty  paces  one  could  no 
longer  hear  the  brass  instruments  of  the  orchestra.  No  one  danced. 
Idiotic  remarks,  repeated  no  one  knew  why,  circulated  among  the 
groups.  They  all  exerted  themselves,  but  without  succeeding  in 
being  funny.  Seven  women,  shut  up  in  the  cloak-room,  cried  to 
be  delivered.  A  shallot,  picked  up  and  sold  by  auction,  fetched 
two  louis.  Just  then  Nana  arrived,  still  dressed  in  the  blue  and 
white  costume  that  she  wore  at  the  races.  The  shallot  was  pre- 
sented to  her  in  the  midst  of  a  thunder  of  applause.  They  seized 
hold  of  her  in  spite  of  her  struggles,  and  three  gentlemen  carried 
her  in  triumph  into  the  garden,  across  the  ruined  lawns  and  the 
damaged  beds  of  flowers  and  shrubs,  and  as  the  orchestra  was  in 
the  way,  they  took  it  by  assault,  and  smashed  the  chairs  and 
desks.  A  paternal  police  organized  the  riot. 

It  was  not  till  the  Tuesday  that  Nana  felt  quite  recovered 
from  the  emotions  of  her  victory.  She  was  talking  that  morning 
with  Madame  Lerat,  come  to  give  her  news  of  little  Louis,  who 
had  been  unwell  ever  since  his  outing.  She  was  highly  interested 
in  an  event  which  at  that  moment  was  occupying  Paris.  Van- 
deuvres, warned  off  all  the  race-courses,  his  name  withdrawn  the 
same  night  from  the  list  of  members  of  the  Cercle  Imperial,  had 
on  the  morrow  set  fire  to  his  stable,  and  had  been  burned  with 
his  horses. 

"He  told  me  he  would,"  the  young  woman  was  saying.  "Ah! 
the  young  fellow  was  a  regular  madman.  It  gave  me  such  a 


NANA 

fright  last  night  when  I  heard  of  it!  You  see  he  might  very  well 
have  murdered  me  one  night;  and,  besides,  oughtn't  he  to  have 
told  me  about  his  horse?  I  should,  at  least,  have  made  my  for- 
tune! He  said  to  Labordette  that  if  I  was  let  into  the  secret  I 
would  at  once  tell  my  hairdresser,  and  a  host  of  other  men.  How 
very  polite!  Ah,  no!  really,  I  can't  regret  him  much." 

After  thinking  the  matter  over,  she  had  become  furious.  At 
that  moment  Labordette  entered  the  room.  He  had  been  col- 
lecting her  winnings  for  her,  and  brought  her  about  forty  thou- 
sand francs.  That  only  added  to  her  ill-humour,  for  she  ought  to 
have  won  a  million.  Labordette,  who  pretended  to  be  very  inno- 
cent in  the  matter,  boldly  forsook  Vandeuvres  altogether.  Those 
ancient  families  were  all  done  for;  they  always  came  to  grief  in 
a  ridiculous  manner. 

"Oh,  no!"  said  Nana;  "it  is  not  ridiculous  to  set  oneself  afire 
like  that  in  a  stable.  I  think  he  ended  grandly.  Oh!  you  know, 
I'm  not  defending  his  affair  with  Merachal.  Now,  that  was  ri- 
diculous. When  I  think  that  Blanche  had  the  idiocy  to  pretend 
that  I  was  the  cause  of  it  all!  I  said  to  her,  'Did  I  tell  him  to 
steal?'  I  suppose  one  may  ask  a  man  for  money  without  driving 
him  to  commit  a  crime.  If  he  had  said  to  me,  'I've  nothing 
more/  I  should  have  rejoined,  'Very  well,  we'd  better  part.' 
And  that  would  have  been  the  end  of  it." 

"No  doubt,"  observed  the  aunt  gravely.  "When  men  become 
obstinate,  it  is  so  much  the  worse  for  them! " 

"But  as  for  the  closing  scene  —  oh!  it  was  indeed  grand!" 
resumed  Nana.  "It  seems  that  it  was  terrible;  the  thought  of  it 
makes  my  flesh  creep.  He  got  everybody  out  of  the  way,  and 
shut  himself  inside,  with  some  petroleum.  And  it  blazed  away 
— ah!  it  must  have  been  a  sight!  Just  fancy,  a  big  place  like 
that  nearly  all  of  wood,  and  full  of  hay  and  straw!  The  flames, 
they  say,  rose  nearly  as  high  as  steeples.  The  best  part  was  the 
horses,  who  didn't  want  to  be  roasted.  They  were  heard  kicking 
and  flinging  themselves  against  the  doors,  and  uttering  cries  like 
human  beings.  Some  of  the  people  there  nearly  died  from 
fright." 

Labordette  gave  a  low  whistle  of  incredulity.  He  did  not  be- 
lieve in  Vandeuvres's  death.  One  person  swore  that  he  had  seen 
him  get  out  through  a  window.  He  had  set  fire  to  his  stable  in  a 
fit  of  madness,  only  as  soon  as  it  began  to  get  warm,  it  probably 

C3283 


NANA 

brought  him  to  his  senses  again.  A  man  who  behaved  so  stupidly 
with  women,  so  empty-headed,  was  not  capable  of  dying  in  such 
a  grand  style. 

Nana's  illusions  were  dispelled  as  she  listened  to  him;  and  she 
merely  made  this  remark, 

"Oh!  the  wretch!  it  was  such  a  grand  ending!" 


CHAPTER  XII 

IT  was  nearly  one  o'clock  in  the  morning,  and  Nana  and  the 
Count,  in  the  big  bed  hung  with  Venetian  lace,  were  not  yet 
asleep.  He  had  returned  that  evening,  after  sulking  for  three 
days.  The  room,  which  was  only  feebly  lighted  by  a  lamp,  was 
wrapped  in  silence,  and  felt  warm  and  moist  with  an  odor  of  love; 
whilst  the  white  lacquer  furniture,  inlaid  with  silver,  was  only 
vaguely  visible.  A  drawn  curtain  half  hid  the  bed  in  a  flood  of 
shadow.  There  was  a  sigh,  and  then  the  sound  of  a  kiss  broke 
the  silence;  and  Nana,  gliding  from  under  the  clothes,  remained 
seated  for  an  instance  on  the  edge  of  the  bed,  with  her  legs  bare. 
The  count,  his  head  fallen  back  on  the  pillow,  continued  in  the 
shadow. 

"Darling,  do  you  believe  in  God?"  she  asked,  after  a  moment 
of  reflection,  with  a  grave  look  on  her  face,  and  filled  with  a  re- 
ligious terror  on  leaving  her  lover's  arms. 

Ever  since  the  morning  she  had  complained  of  an  uneasiness, 
and  all  her  stupid  ideas,  as  she  called  them,  ideas  of  death  and 
hell,  had  been  secretly  tormenting  her.  On  some  nights,  childish 
frights  and  the  most  horrible  fancies  seized  upon  her,  with  her 
eyes  open.  She  resumed, 

"Do  you  think  I  shall  go  to  heaven?" 

And  she  shivered,  whilst  the  count,  surprised  at  these  singular 
questions  at  such  a  time,  felt  all  his  religious  remorse  awakened 
within  him.  But,  with  her  night-dress  slipped  from  her  shoulders, 
her  hair  hanging  loose  about  her,  she  fell  upon  his  chest,  sobbing 
and  clinging  to  him. 

"I'm  afraid  to  die  —  I'm  afraid  to  die." 

He  had  all  the  difficulty  in  the  world  to  get  free  from  her. 
He  himself  was  afraid  of  succumbing  to  the  attack  of  madness 
from  which  that  woman,  pressed  to  his  body  in  the  contagious 
fear  of  the  invisible,  was  suffering;  and  he  reasoned  with  her. 
She  was  in  very  good  health,  all  she  had  to  do  was  to  conduct 
herself  well,  to  merit  pardon  hereafter.  But  she  shook  her  head. 

C330H 


NANA 

No  doubt  she  never  did  harm  to  anyone;  she  even  always  wore 
a  medal  of  the  Virgin,  which  she  showed  him  hanging  to  a  red 
ribbon  between  her  breasts;  only  it  was  settled  beforehand,  all 
women,  who,  without  being  married,  had  anything  to  do  with 
men,  went  to  hell.  Fragments  of  her  catechism  were  returning 
to  her.  Ah!  if  one  only  knew  for  certain;  but  there,  one  knew 
nothing,  no  one  ever  returned  with  news,  and,  really,  it  would  be 
stupid  to  put  oneself  out  if  the  priests  were  only  talking  non- 
sense. Yet  she  devoutly  kissed  her  medal,  which  was  all  warm 
from  its  contact  with  her  body,  as  a  conjuration  against  death, 
the  thought  of  which  filled  her  with  an  icy  terror. 

Muff  at  had  to  go  with  her  into  the  dressing-room;  she  trembled 
at  being  alone  for  a  minute,  even  with  the  door  open.  When  he 
had  got  into  bed  again,  she  wandered  about  the  room  looking  into 
all  the  corners,  and  starting  at  the  least  sound.  As  she  came  to 
a  mirror,  she  stopped  before  it  as  in  the  old  days,  lost  in  the  con- 
templation of  her  nudity.  But  the  sight  only  increased  her  fear. 
She  ended  by  leisurely  feeling  the  bones  of  her  face  with  both  her 
hands. 

"How  ugly  one  looks  when  one's  dead!"  said  she  slowly. 
And  she  drew  in  her  cheeks,  opened  wide  her  eyes,  and  dropped 
her  jaw  to  see  how  she  would  look.  Then,  with  her  features  thus 
distorted,  she  turned  to  the  count  and  said, 
"Just  look,  my  head  will  be  so  small," 
Then  he  grew  angry.  "You  are  mad;  come  to  bed." 
He  could  picture  her  in  a  grave,  with  the  emaciation  of  a  cen- 
tury; and,  joining  his  hands,  he  muttered  a  prayer.  For  some 
time  past  religion  had  regained  possession  of  him,  his  attacks  of 
faith,  every  day,  had  the  violence  of  apoplectic  fits,  and  left  him 
without  the  least  strength.  His  fingers  snapped,  and  he  continu- 
ally repeated  these  words:  "My  God  —  my  God  —  my  God." 
It  was  the  cry  of  his  impotence,  the  cry  of  his  sin,  against  which 
he  was  powerless  to  resist,  in  spite  of  the  certainty  of  his  damna- 
tion. When  Nana  returned  to  the  bed  she  found  nim  lying  under 
the  clothes  with  a  haggard  look  on  his  face,  his  hails  digging  into 
his  chest,  and  his  eyes  gazing  upwards  as  though  seeking  for 
heaven.  And  she  burst  out  crying  again;  they  embraced  each 
other,  their  teeth  chattering  without  their  knowing  it,  both  being 
oppressed  by  the  same  absurd  nightmare.  They  had  once  before 
passed  a  similar  night,  only  this  time  they  were  utterly  idiotic, 

C33O 


NANA 

as  Nana  herself  declared  when  she  had  got  over  her  fright.  A 
suspicion  caused  her  to  skilfully  question  the  count;  perhaps 
Rose  Mignon  had  sent  the  famous  letter.  But  it  wasn't  that,  it 
was  merely  his  nerves,  nothing  more,  for  he  was  still  without 
proofs  of  his  cuckoldom. 

Two  days  later,  after  a  fresh  disappearance,  Muffat  called  one 
morning,  a  time  at  which  he  had  never  come  before.  He  was 
livid,  his  eyes  were  red  with  weeping,  and  his  whole  frame  was 
still  shaking  from  a  great  internal  struggle.  But  Zoe  herself, 
utterly  scared,  did  not  notice  his  agitation.  She  ran  to  meet 
him,  and  cried, 

"Oh,  sir!  be  quick!    Madame  very  nearly  died  last  night." 

And,  as  he  asked  for  particulars,  she  added,  "Oh!  something 
incredible,  sir!  A  miscarragel" 

Nana  was  three  months  enceinte.  For  a  long  time  she  had 
thought  she  was  merely  unwell;  Dr.  Boutarel  himself  had  doubts. 
Then,  when  he  was  able  to  say  for  certain,  she  was  so  vexed  that 
she  did  everything  she  could  to  hide  her  condition.  It  seemed 
to  her  a  most  ridiculous  mishap,  something  which  lowered  her  in 
her  own  estimation,  and  about  which  everyone  would  have  chaffed 
her.  What  a  wretched  joke!  she  had  no  luck,  really!  It  was 
just  her  misfortune  to  be  caught  when  she  thought  she  was  quite 
safe.  And  she  experienced  a  constant  surprise,  as  though  dis- 
turbed in  her  sex.  What!  one  got  children  even  when  one  did  not 
want  them,  and  had  another  object  in  view?  Nature  exasperated 
her  —  that  grave  maternity  which  rose  in  the  midst  of  her  pleas- 
ures, that  new  life  quickening  when  she  was  sowing  so  many 
deaths  around  her.  Ought  not  one  to  be  able  to  dispose  of  oneself 
as  one  liked  without  all  that  fuss?  Now,  who  did  the  brat  spring 
from?  She  could  not  for  the  soul  of  her  tell.  No  one  had  asked 
for  it,  it  was  in  everybody's  way,  and  it  would  not  meet  with 
much  happiness  in  life,  that  was  quite  certain! 

Zoe  gave  the  story  of  the  catastrophe. 

"Madame  was  seized  with  colics  towards  four  o'clock.  When 
I  went  into  the  dressing-room,  not  having  seen  her  for  some  time, 
I  found  her  lying  on  the  ground  in  a  swoon.  Yes,  sir,  on  the 
ground,  in  a  pool  of  blood,  as  though  she  had  been  murdered. 
Then,  you  know,  I  understood  what  had  happened.  I  was  furious: 
madame  ought  to  have  told  me  of  her  mishap.  M.  George  hap- 
pened to  be  here.  He  helped  me  to  raise  her,  but  when  I  told 


NANA 

him  she  had  had  a  miscarriage,  he  became  unwell  also.    Really! 
I've  been  in  an  awful  stew  ever  since  yesterday!" 

And  indeed  the  house  seemed  topsy-turvy.  All  the  servants 
were  continually  running  about  the  rooms  and  up  and  down 
stairs.  George  had  passed  the  night  on  a  chair  in  the  drawing- 
room.  It  was  he  who  had  told  the  news  to  madame's  friends 
who  had  called  in  the  evening  at  the  time  when  madame  usually 
received.  He  was  very  pale,  and  he  related  the  story  full  of  as- 
tonishment and  emotion.  Steiner,  La  Faloise,  Philippe,  and  sev- 
eral others  had  called.  At  his  first  words  they  uttered  exclama- 
tions. It  could  not  be!  it  must  be  a  joke!  Then  they  became 
very  serious.  They  glanced  at  the  bed-room  door,  looking  very 
much  put  out,  shaking  their  heads,  no  longer  thinking  it  a  funny 
matter.  Up  to  midnight  a  dozen  gentlemen  had  conversed  in 
undertones  in  front  of  the  fire-place,  ail  of  them  friends,  and  each 
one  wondering  if  he  were  the  father.  They  seemed  to  be  apolo- 
gising to  one  another,  with  the  confused  looks  of  awkward  people. 
Then  they  assumed  their  airs  again.  It  was  nothing  to  do  with 
them;  it  was  her  fault  entirely.  She  was  a  scorcher,  that  Nana! 
One  would  never  have  expected  such  a  joke  from  her !  And  they  went 
off  one  by  one,  on  tiptoe,  the  same  as  in  the  chamber  of  death, 
where  one  must  never  laugh. 

"But  you  had  better  go  up  all  the  same,  sir,"  said  Zoe  to 
Muffat.  "Madame  is  much  better;  she  will  see  you.  We  are 
expecting  the  doctor,  who  promised  to  call  again  this  morning." 

The  maid  had  persuaded  George  to  go  home  to  obtain  some 
sleep.  Upstairs  in  the  drawing-room  there  was  only  Satin,  re- 
clining on  a  sofa,  smoking  a  cigarette,  and  gazing  at  the  ceiling. 
Since  the  accident,  in  the  midst  of  the  distraction  of  the  house- 
hold, she  had  displayed  a  cold  rage,  shrugging  her  shoulders,  and 
saying  most  ferocious  things.  So  as  Zoe  passed  before  her,  telling 
Muffat  that  her  mistress's  sufferings  had  been  very  great; 

"It  serves  her  right;  it  will  be  a  lesson  for  her!"  she  sharply 
exclaimed. 

They  turned  around  in  surprise.  Satin  had  not  moved.  Her 
eyes  were  still  fixed  on  the  ceiling;  her  cigarette  was  held  ner- 
vously between  her  lips. 

"Well,  you  haven't  much  feeling,  you  haven't!"  said  Zoe. 

But  Satin,  sitting  up  on  the  couch,  looked  furiously  at  the 
count,  and  flung  her  former  words  in  his  face: 

£3333 


NANA 

"It  serves  her  right;   it  will  be  a  lesson  for  her!" 

And  she  laid  herself  down  again,  slowly  puffing  the  smoke  from 
her  mouth,  as  though  uninterested  and  determined  not  to  mix  her- 
self up  in  anything.  No,  it  was  too  absurd! 

Zoe  ushered  the  count  into  the  bed-room.  A  smell  of  ether  hung 
about  in  the  midst  of  a  lukewarm  silence,  which  the  rare  vehicles 
of  the  Avenue  de  Villiers  scarcely  broke  with  a  dull  rumbling 
sound.  Nana,  looking  very  white  on  the  pillow,  was  not  asleep; 
her  eyes  were  wide  open  and  thoughtful.  She  smiled,  without 
moving,  on  catching  sight  of  the  count. 

"Ah,  ducky!"  murmured  she  slowly.  "I  thought  I  should 
never  see  you  again."  ^, 

Then  when  he  bent  forward  to  kiss  her  on  her  hair,  she  was 
moved,  and  spoke  to  him  of  the  child,  in  good  faith,  as  though 
he  had  been  the  father. 

"I  did  not  dare  to  tell  you.  I  felt  so  happy!  Oh!  I  had  all 
sorts  of  dreams  —  I  wanted  it  to  be  worthy  of  you.  And  now, 
it's  all  over.  Well,  perhaps  it's  best  so.  I  don't  want  to  saddle 
you  with  any  encumbrance." 

He,  surprised  at  that  paternity,  stammered  out  a  few  sentences. 
He  had  taken  a  chair  and  seated  himself  beside  the  bed,  one  arm 
lying  on  the  clothes.  Then  the  young  woman  noticed  his  agi- 
tated countenance,  his  bloodshot  eyes,  the  feverish  trembling  of 
his  lips. 

"What's  the  matter  with  you?"  asked  she.    "Are  you  ill  also?" 

"No,"  he  answered  painfully. 

She  gave  him  a  penetrating  look.  Then  with  a  sign  she  sent 
off  Zoe,  who  was  arranging  the  bottles  of  medicine  as  an  excuse 
for  remaining  in  the  room.  And  when  they  were  alone,  she  drew 
him  towards  her,  saying, 

"What's  the  matter,  darling?  Your  eyes  are  full  of  tears,  I 
can  see  them.  Come,  speak;  you  have  called  to  tell  me  some- 
thing." 

"No,  no!  I  swear  to  you,"  he  stammered. 

But,  choking  with  suffering,  affected  all  the  more  by  that  sick- 
room in  which  he  so  unexpectedly  found  himself,  he  burst  into 
sobs;  he  buried  his  face  in  the  sheets,  to  stifle  the  explosion  of 
his  anguish.  Nana  understood.  Rose  had  no  doubt  ended  by 
sending  the  letter.  She  let  him  cry  a  while;  the  convulsions 
that  had  seized  him  were  so  violent,  that  they  shook  her  in 

£334:1 


NANA 

the  bed.  At  length,  with  an  accent  of  maternal  compassion, 
she  asked, 

"You  have  some  worry  at  home?" 

He  nodded  his  head.  She  paused  again,  then  added  very  low, 
"So  you  know  all?" 

He  nodded  his  head  a  second  time.  And  silence  again  reigned, 
an  oppressive  silence,  in  that  room  of  pain.  It  was  the  night 
before,  on  returning  from  a  party  at  the  Empress's,  that  he  had 
received  the  letter  written  by  Sabine  to  her  lover.  After  a  fright- 
ful night,  passed  in  dreaming  of  vengeance,  he  had  gone  out 
early  in  the  morning,  to  withstand  a  temptation  to  kill  his  wife. 
Outside  in  the  open  air,  struck  by  the  mildness  of  the  beautiful 
June  morning,  he  had  been  unable  to  collect  his  scattered  ideas, 
and  had  come  to  Nana's  as  he  always  came  when  in  trouble. 
There  only  he  would  abandon  himself  to  his  misery,  with  the 
cowardly  joy  of  being  consoled. 

"Come,  be  calm,"  resumed  the  young  woman  affectionately. 
"  I  have  known  it  for  a  long  while;  but  I  would  never  have  opened 
your  eyes.  You  recollect  last  year  you  had  suspicions.  Then, 
thanks  to  my  prudence,  things  got  all  right  again.  In  short,  you 
had  no  proofs.  Well!  to-day,  if  you  have  any,  it's  certainly 
hard,  as  I  can  understand.  Yet  you  must  be  reasonable.  One's 
not  dishonoured  because  of  that." 

He  no  longer  wept.  Shame  had  possession  of  him,  though  he 
had  for  a  long  time  past  talked  with  her  about  the  most  in- 
timate details  of  his  married  life.  She  had  to  encourage  him. 
Come,  she  was  a  woman,  she  could  hear  everything.  But  he 
muttered  in  a  hollow  voice, 

"You're  ill;  I  mustn't  tire  you!  It  was  stupid  of  me  to  come. 
I  am  going." 

"But  no,"  said  she,  quickly.  "  Stay,  I  may  be  able  to  give  you 
some  good  advice.  Only,  don't  make  me  talk  too  much;  the 
doctor  has  forbidden  me  to  do  so." 

He  had  left  his  seat,  and  was  walking  about  the  room.  Then 
she  questioned  him. 

"What  will  you  do  now?" 

"I  will  thrash  the  man,  of  course!" 

She  pouted  disapprovingly.  "That's  not  a  very  smart  thing 
to  do.  And  your  wife?" 

"I  shall  sue  for  a  separation.    I  have  a  proof." 


NANA 

"My  dear  fellow,  that's  not  smart  at  all;  it's  even  absurd. 
You  know  I'll  never  let  you  do  anything  of  the  kind." 

And,  sedately,  in  her  feeble  voice,  she  pointed  out  to  him  the 
useless  scandal  of  a  duel  and  a  lawsuit.  For  a  week  he  would  be 
the  chief  topic  in  all  the  papers.  He  would  be  playing  with  his 
entire  existence,  his  peace  of  mind,  his  high  position  at  court,  the 
honour  of  his  name;  and  why?  to  be  laughed  at. 

"What  does  it  matter?"  cried  he.    " I  shall  be  avenged!" 

"Ducky,"  said  she,  "when  a  man  doesn't  avenge  himself  at 
once  in  such  mag:«rs,  he  doesn't  avenge  himself  at  all." 

The  words  he  was  about  to  utter  died  away  on  his  lips.  He 
was  certainly  no  coward,  but  he  felt  that  she  was  right.  An  un- 
easiness increased  within  him  —  something  like  a  feeling  of  im- 
poverishment and  shamefulness  had  unmanned  him,  in  the  out- 
burst of  his  wrath.  Besides,  she  hit  him  another  blow,  with  a 
frankness  that  decided  on  telling  all. 

"And  would  you  like  to  know  what  it  is  that  bothers  you, 
darling?  It  is  that  you  yourself  deceive  your  wife.  Eh!  you 
don't  stop  out  all  night  to  say  your  prayers.  Your  wife  must 
know  the  true  reason.  Then  with  what  can  you  reproach  her? 
She  will  say  that  you  gave  her  the  example,  and  that  will  shut 
you  up.  There,  darling!  that's  why  you're  here  stamping  about 
instead  of  being  there  murdering  them  both." 

Muffat  had  fallen  into  a  chair,  overwhelmed  by  that  brutality 
of  language.  She  remained  silent  awhile,  regaining  breath;  then 
she  faltered,  in  a  very  low  voice, 

"Oh!  I'm  sore  all  over.  Help  me  to  raise  myself  a  little.  I 
keep  slipping  down,  my  head  is  too  low." 

When  he  had  assisted  her,  she  sighed  and  felt  better,  and  she 
returned  to  the  grand  sight  of  a  trial  for  judicial  separation. 
Could  he  not  conceive  the  countess's  counsel  amusing  all  Paris 
in  talking  of  Nana?  Everything  would  be  related  —  her  fiasco  at 
the  Variety  Theatre,  her  mansion,  her  life.  Ah,  no!  she  did  not 
care  for  such  an  advertisement.  Some  dirty  women  might  have 
urged  him  to  be  so  foolish,  so  as  to  gain  notoriety  at  his  expense; 
but  she  desired  his  happiness  before  everything.  She  had  drawn 
him  towards  her.  She  held  him  now,  with  his  head  on  the  pillow 
beside  her  own,  and  her  arm  round  his  neck,  and  she  whispered 
gently, 

"Listen,  ducky;  you  must  make  it  up  with  your  wife." 

£336  3 


NANA 

He  was  indignant.  Never!  His  heart  was  breaking;  the  shame 
was  too  great.  She,  however,  tenderly  insisted. 

"You  must  make  it  up  with  your  wife.  Come,  you  don't  want 
to  hear  everyone  say  that  I  estranged  you  from  your  family?  It 
would  give  me  too  bad  a  reputation.  What  would  everyone  think 
of  me?  Only  swear  that  you'll  always  love  me;  for,  now  that 
you're  going  to  be  another's  — " 

Her  sobs  were  choking  her.  He  interrupted  her  with  kisses, 
saying, 

"You  are  mad  —  it  is  impossible!" 

"Yes,  yes,"  resumed  she;  "y°u  must  do  it.  It's  only  right; 
and,  after  all,  she's  your  wife.  It's  not  as  though  you  were  un- 
faithful to  me  with  the  first  woman  you  came  across." 

And  she  continued  thus,  giving  him  the  best  advice.  She  even 
talked  of  God.  He  seemed  to  be  listening  to  M.  Venot,  when 
the  old  man  used  to  sermonize  him,  to  save  him  from  sin.  She, 
however,  did  not  talk  of  breaking  off.  She  preached  complai- 
sancy — the  sharing  of  him  by  his  wife  and  his  mistress,  a  quiet 
life,  without  any  bother  for  any  one,  something  like  a  happy 
dozing  through  the  inevitable  nastinesses  of  life.  It  would  change 
nothing  in  their  existence.  He  would  still  be  her  best-loved 
ducky,  only  he  would  not  come  quite  so  frequently,  and  would 
devote  to  the  countess  the  days  he  did  not  spend  with  her.  Her 
strength  was  failing  her;  she  concluded  in  a  whisper, 

"That  way,  I  shall  know  that  I  have  performed  a  good  action. 
You  will  love  me  all  the  more." 

Then  there  was  silence.  She  closed  her  eyes,  looking  paler 
still  on  the  pillow.  He  had  listened  to  her,  under  the  pretext  of 
not  wishing  to  tire  her.  At  the  end  of  a  few  minutes,  she  re- 
opened her  eyes,  and  murmured, 

"And  money,  too?  Where  will  you  get  money  if  you  quarrel? 
Labordette  came  yesterday  about  the  bill.  I'm  in  want  of  every- 
thing; I've  not  a  thing  left  to  put  on." 

Then,  closing  her  eyes  again,  she  appeared  as  though  dead. 
A  shade  of  intense  anguish  overspread  Muffat's  face.  In  the 
blow  that  had  come  upon  him,  he  had  forgotten,  ever  since  the 
night  before,  the  monetary  difficulties  from  which  he  no  longer 
knew  how  to  extricate  himself.  In  spite  of  the  most  distinct 
promises,  his  note  for  a  hundred  thousand  francs,  already  renewed 
once,  had  been  put  into  circulation;  and  Labordette,  affecting  to 

C3373 


NANA 

be  greatly  vexed,  made  out  it  was  all  Francis's  fault,  and  said  that 
he  would  never  again  compromise  himself  in  an  affair  with  an 
uneducated  man.  It  would  have  to  be  paid,  the  count  would 
never  let  his  note  be  protested.  Then,  besides  Nana's  innumer- 
able claims,  there  was  a  most  wasteful  expenditure  going  on  in 
his  own  home.  On  their  return  from  Les  Fondettes,  the  countess 
had  suddenly  developed  a  taste  for  luxury,  an  appetite  for  worldly 
enjoyments?  which  were  rapidly  devouring  their  fortune.  People 
were  beginning  to  talk  of  her  ruinous  caprices,  a  complete  change 
of  her  household,  five  hundred  thousand  francs  frittered  away  in 
transforming  the  old  house  in  the  Rue  Miromesnil,  and  extrava- 
gant costumes,  and  large  sums  of  money  that  had  disappeared, 
melted,  or  been  given  away  perhaps,  without  her  troubling  her- 
self to  render  the  least  account.  Twice  Muffat  had  ventured  to 
make  some  observations,  being  desirous  of  knowing;  but  she  had 
looked  at  him  so  peculiarly,  smiling  the  while,  that  he  did  not 
dare  to  ask  any  questions  for  fear  of  receiving  too  plain  an  answer. 
If  he  accepted  Daguenet  as  a  son-in-law  from  Nana,  it  was 
especially  with  the  idea  of  being  able  to  reduce  Estelle's 
dowry  to  two  hundred  thousand  francs,  and  of  making  ar- 
rangements respecting  the  balance  with  the  young  man,  who 
would  be  only  too  delighted  at  such  an  unexpectedly  good 
marriage. 

However,  during  the  last  week,  in  view  of  the  necessity  of 
immediately  finding  the  hundred  thousand  francs  for  the  bill, 
Muffat  had  only  been  able  to  think  of  one  expedient,  from  which 
he  recoiled.  It  was  to  sell  a  magnificent  estate  called  Les  Bordes, 
estimated  at  half-a-million,  and  which  the  countess  had  recently 
inherited  from  an  uncle.  Only,  he  needed  her  assent,  and  she  also, 
by  her  marriage  contract,  could  not  dispose  of  it  without  his. 
The  night  before  he  had  made  up  his  mind  to  ask  his  wife  for  her 
consent.  But  now  his  plans  were  all  upset,  he  could  never  accept 
such  a  compromise  knowing  what  he  did.  This  thought  made 
the  blow  he  had  received  all  the  harder.  He  understood  what 
it  was  that  Nana  wished;  for,  in  the  increasing  constraint  that 
prompted  him  to  confide  in  her  regarding  everything,  he  had 
complained  about  the  difficulty  he  was  in,  he  had  told  her  how 
anxious  he  was  to  get  the  countess's  consent. 

However,  Nana  did  not  appear  to  insist.  She  did  not  re- 
open her  eyes.  Seeing  her  so  pale,  he  was  frightened,  and  induced 

C3383 


NANA 

her  to  take  a  little  ether.  Then  she  sighed,  and  questioned  him, 
but  without  naming  Daguenet. 

"When  is  the  marriage  coming  off?" 

"The  contract  is  to  be  signed  on  Tuesday,  in  five  days  from 
now,"  he  replied. 

Then,  with  her  eyes  still  closed,  as  though  she  was  speaking 
in  the  night  of  her  thoughts,  she  added,  "Well,  ducky,  think 
what  you  had  better  do.  *  For  myself,  I  want  everyone  to  be 
pleased." 

He  pacified  her  by  taking  her  hand.  Yes,  he  would  think 
about  it,  the  main  thing  was  for  her  to  rest.  And  his  indig- 
nation left  him;  that  sick-room,  so  warm  and  so  still,  smelling 
strongly  of  ether,  had  ended  by  lulling  him  in  a  blessed  peace- 
fulness.  All  his  manliness,  aroused  by  the  injury,  had  disap- 
peared on  his  contact  with  the  warmth  of  that  bed,  beside  that 
suffering  woman,  whom  he  nursed,  under  the  excitement  of  his 
fever,  and  with  the  recollection  of  their  voluptuous  pleasures. 
He  leant  over  her,  he  held  her  in  his  embrace;  though  her  face 
did  not  move,  on  her  lips  hovered  the  keen  smile  of  victory. 
At  that  moment  Dr.  Boutarel  entered  the  room. 

"Well!  and  how  is  this  dear  child?"  said  he  familiarly  to 
Muffat,  whom  he  treated  as  the  husband.  "The  deuce!  she 
has  been  talking!" 

The  doctor  was  a  handsome  man,  still  young,  and  had  a  superb 
connection  in  the  world  of  gallantry.  Very  gay,  always  laughing 
like  a  comrade  with  the  ladies,  but  never  departing  from  his 
professional  position,  he  charged  monstrous  fees,  which  invariably 
had  to  be  paid  with  great  punctuality.  He  would  trouble  himself 
to  call  for  the  least  thing.  Nana  often  sent  for  him  two  or  three 
times  a  week,  always  trembling  at  the  thought  of  death,  and 
anxiously  telling  him  of  every  little  ache  and  pain,  which  he  cured 
whilst  amusing  her  with  gossip  and  funny  stories.  All  the  women 
adored  him.  But  this  time  the  complaint  was  serious. 

Muffat  withdrew,  deeply  affected.  He  had  no  other  feeling 
but  that  of  compassion,  at  seeing  his  poor  Nana  so  weak.  As 
he  was  leaving  the  room,  she  beckoned  him  back,  and  offered 
her  forehead  to  be  kissed;  then,  in  a  low  voice,  with  a  playfully 
menacing  air,  she  whispered: 

"You  know  what  I  told  you  you  might  do.  Make  it  up  with 
your  wife,  or  I  shall  be  angry!" 

C3393 


NANA 

Countess  Sabine  had  wished  her  daughter's  marriage  contract 
to  be  signed  on  a  Tuesday,  to  inaugurate  the  restoration  of  her 
town-house,  the  paintings  of  which  were  scarcely  dry,  by  a  grand 
party.  Five  hundred  invitations  had  been  sent  out,  a  few  in  all 
the  different  sets.  On  the  morning  itself,  the  upholsterers  were 
still  puttirtg  up  some  of  the  hangings;  and,  at  the  time  of  light- 
ing the  chandeliers,  towards  nine  o'clock,  the  architect,  accom- 
panied by  the  countess  who  was  enraptured,  was  giving  his  final 
instructions. 

It  was  one  of  those  charming  spring  parties.  The  warm  June 
evening  had  enabled  the  two  doors  of  the  drawing-room  to  be 
thrown  wide  open,  and  the  ball  to  be  carried  even  on  the  gravel 
paths  of  the  garden.  When  the  first  guests  arrived  they  were 
fairly  dazzled,  as  the  count  and  countess  greeted  them  at  the 
door.  It  was  difficult  to  recall  the  room  of  bygone  days  in  which 
lingered  the  icy  recollection  of  old  Countess  Muffat  —  that 
antique  apartment,  full  of  devout  severity,  with  its  solid  mahogany 
furniture  in  the  style  of  the  Empire,  its  yellow  velvet  hangings, 
its  greenish  ceiling  saturated  with  dampness.  Now,  in  the  entrance 
vestibule,  mosaics  set  off  with  gold  shone  beneath  the  tall  cande- 
labra; whilst  the  marble  staircase  unrolled  its  finely-chiselled 
balustrade.  Then  the  drawing-room  was  resplendent  with  Genoa 
velvet  hangings,  and  a  ceiling  embellished  with  a  vast  painting 
by  Boucher,  which  the  architect  had  purchased  for  one  hundred 
thousand  francs  at  the  sale  of  the  chateau  of  Dampierre.  The 
crystal  chandeliers  and  candelabra  illuminated  a  profusion  of 
mirrors  and  costly  furniture.  One  could  have  said  that  Sabine's 
easy-chair  —  that  solitary  seat  covered  with  crimson  silk,  and 
the  softness  of  which  used  to  seem  so  much  out  of  place — had 
extended  and  multiplied  until  it  filled  the  entire  house  with  a 
voluptous  indolence,  a  keen  enjoyment,  which  burned  with  all  the 
intensity  of  latent  fires. 

The  dancing  had  commenced.  The  orchestra,  placed  in  the 
garden  in  front  of  one  of  the  open  windows,  was  playing  a  waltz, 
the  sprightly  rhythm  of  which  arrived  softened  and  subdued 
from  the  open  air.  And  the  garden  spread  itself  out  in  a  trans- 
parent shadow,  lighted  up  by  Venetian  lanterns,  with  a  purple 
tent  for  refreshments  erected  at  the  edge  of  the  lawn.  This 
waltz  —  the  saucy  waltz  of  the  "Blonde  Venus,"  which  resembled 
the  laugh  raised  by  some  over-free  piece  of  buffoonery  —  pene- 

C340] 


NANA 

trated  the  old  house  with  a  sonorous  swell,  warming  the  walls 
with  its  tremor.  It  seemed  like  some  breath  of  the  flesh  coming 
from  the  street,  sweeping  before  it  the  whole  of  a  defunct  age  in 
the  haughty  abode,  carrying  away  the  past  of  the  Muffats,  cen- 
turies of  honour  and  of  faith  slumbering  beneath  the  ceilings. 

Close  to  the  fire-place,  however,  the  old  friends  of  the  count's 
mother  had  taken  refuge  in  their  accustomed  seats,  feeling  dazed 
and  out  of  their  element.  They  formed  a  little  group  in  the 
midst  of  the  gradually  increasing  crowd.  Madame  du  Joncquoy, 
no  longer  recognising  the  place,  had  at  first  gone  into  the  dining- 
room.  Madame  Chantereau  looked  with  amazement  at  the  gar- 
den, which  seemed  to  her  immense.  Soon  all  sorts  of  bitter 
reflections  were  whispered  in  this  corner. 

"I  say,"  murmured  Madame  Chantereau;  "supposing  the  old 
countess  were  only  to  return.  Just  fancy  her  look  on  beholding  all 
these  people,  and  all  this  gold,  and  this  hubbub.  It  is  scandalous ! " 

"Sabine  is  mad,"  replied  Madame  du  Joncquoy.  "Did  you 
notice  her  at  the  door?  Look,  you  can  see  her  from  here.  She 
has  all  her  diamonds  on." 

They  stood  up  for  a  moment  to  look  at  the  count  and  countess 
in  the  distance.  Sabine,  in  a  white  costume  trimmed  with  some 
magnificent  English  lace,  was  triumphant  with  beauty  —  young, 
lively,  and  with  a  touch  of  intoxication  in  her  continual  smile. 
Muffat,  beside  her,  looking  aged  and  rather  pale,  smiled  also  in 
his  calm,  dignified  manner. 

"And  to  think  that  he  was  the  master,"  resumed  Madame 
Chantereau,  "that  not  the  smallest  seat  would  have  been  admitted 
here  without  his  permission!  Ah,  well!  she  has  changed  all  that, 
he  obeys  her  now.  Do  you  recollect  the  time  when  she  would  not 
alter  a  thing  in  the  drawing-room?  The  whole  house  is  altered 
now." 

But  they  ceased  talking  as  Madame  de  Chezelles  entered, 
followed  by  a  troop  of  young  men,  all  of  them  enraptured,  and 
giving  vent  to  their  admiration  in  faint  exclamations. 

"Oh,  delicious!  exquisite!  t>o  full  of  taste!" 

And  she  called  back  to  them,  "It's  just  as  I  said!  There's 
nothing  like  these  old  buildings  when  one  knows  how  to  arrange 
them.  They  look  so  grand!  Is  it  not  quite  worthy  of  Louis 
XIV's  time.  Now,  at  least,  she  can  receive." 

The  two  old  ladies  had  sat  down  again,  and  lowering  their 

C34I3 


NANA 

voices,  they  talked  of  the  marriage,  which  surprised  many  people. 
Estelle  had  just  passed,  in  a  pink  silk  dress,  still  flat  and  thin, 
with  her  expressionless  virgin  face.  She  had  accepted  Daguenet 
quietly  ;*she  showed  neither  joy  nor  sadness,  but  remained  as 
cold  and  pale  as  on  those  winter  nights  when  she  used  to  put  the 
logs  of  wood  on  the  fire.  All  this  entertainment  given  for  her,  these 
illuminations,  these  flowers,  this  music,  left  her  cold. 

"An  adventurer!*'  Madame  du  Joncquoy  was  saying.  "I 
have  never  seen  him." 

"Take  care,  here  he  comes,"  murmured  Madame  Chantereau. 

Daguenet,  who  had  caught  sight  of  Madame  Hugon  with  her 
sons,  had  hastened  to  offer  her  his  arm,  and  he  laughed;  he 
showed  her  an  amount  of  affectionate  attention,  as  though  she 
had  had  something  to  do  with  his  stroke  of  fortune. 

"Thank  you,"  said  she,  seating  herself  by  the  fire-place.  "This 
is  my  old  corner." 

"Do  you  know  him?"  asked  Madame  du  Joncquoy,  when 
Daguenet  had  gone  off. 

"Certainly,  he  is  a  charming  young  man.  George  likes  him 
immensely.  Oh!  he  comes  of  a  most  honourable  family." 

And  the  good  lady  defended  him  against  a  covert  hostility 
which  she  felt  existed.  His  father,  who  was  greatly  esteemed 
by  Louis-Philippe,  had  occupied  a  prefect's  post  until  his  death. 
The  young  man  had  perhaps  been  rather  dissipated.  It  was 
said  that  he  was  ruined.  At  any  rate,  one  of  his  uncles,  a  rich 
landed  proprietor,  was  going  to  bequeath  his  fortune  to  him.  But 
the  other  ladies  shook  their  heads,  whilst  Madame  Hugon,  feel- 
ing rather  embarrassed,  kept  laying  great  stress  on  the  honour- 
able position  of  the  family.  She  felt  very  tired  and  complained 
of  her  legs.  For  a  month  past  she  had  been  stopping  at  her  house 
in  the  Rue  Richelieu,  for  a  host  of  business  matters,  so  she  said. 
A  shade  of  sadness  veiled  her  maternal  smile. 

"All  the  same,"  concluded  Madame  Chantereau,  "Estelle 
might  have  made  a  far  better  match." 

There  was  a  flourish  of  music.  It  was  the  commencement  of 
a  quadrille.  The  crowd  moved  to  the  sides  of  the  room  to  leave 
an  open  space.  Light  dresses  passed,  mixed  with  the  dark  dress 
suits;  whilst  the  blaze  of  light  shone  on  the  sea  of  heads,  illuminat- 
ing the  sparkling  jewels,  the  waving  white  plumes,  and  the  bloom 
of  lilac  and  roses.  It  was  already  very  warm.  A  penetrating 

C342] 


NANA 

perfume  rose  from  the  light  tulles,  the  satins,  and  the  silks,  among 
which  the  bare  shoulders  paled,  beneath  the  lively  notes  of  the 
orchestra.  Through  the  open  doors  one  could  see  rows  of  women 
seated  in  the  adjacent  rooms,  with  a  discreet  brightness  in  their 
smile,  a  sparkle  in  their  eyes,  a  pout  on  their  lips,  gently  fanning 
themselves.  And  guests  still  continued  to  arrive.  A  footman 
announced  their  names,  whilst  amidst  the  various  groups  gentle- 
men slowly  tried  to  find  places  for  the  ladies  on  their  arms,  stand- 
ing on  tiptoe  in  search  of  a  vacant  chair.  But  the  house  was 
filling,  the  skirts  were  packing  closer  together  with  a  slight  noise. 
There  were  places  where  a  mass  of  lace,  bows,  and  flounces  barred 
the  way,  the  wearers  politely  resigned,  retaining  all  their  grace, 
accustomed  as  they  were  to  such  brilliant  crushes.  However, 
out  in  the  garden,  in  the  roseate  light  of  the  Venetian  lanterns, 
couples  were  wandering  about,  having  escaped  from  the  stifling 
atmosphere  of  the  great  drawing-room.  The  shadows  of  dresses 
passed  over  the  lawn,  as  though  keeping  time  to  the  music  of 
the  quadrille,  which  sounded  softer  in  the  distance  behind  the 
trees. 

Steiner,  who  was  there,  had  just  come  across  Foucarmont  and 
La  Faloise  partaking  of  champagne  in  the  the  refreshment  tent. 

"It's  awfully  swell,"  La  Faloise  was  saying,  while  examining 
the  purple  tent,  and  the  gilded  lances  which  supported  it.  "One 
could  almost  think  oneself  at  the  gingerbread  fair.  Yes,  that's 
it!  the  gingerbread  fair!" 

He  now  affected  to  continually  poke  fun  at  everything,  pos- 
ing as  a  young  man  who  was  sick  of  the  world,  and  who  could 
find  nothing  worthy  of  being  looked  at  in  a  serious  light. 

"Wouldn't  poor  Vandeuvres  be  surprised  if  he  returned 
here?"  murmured  Foucarmont.  "Don't  you  recollect  when  he 
used  to  be  bored  to  death  over  there,  opposite  the  fire-place? 
By  Jove!  no  one  laughed  then." 

"Vandeuvres!  don't  mention  him,  he's  extinguished!"  re- 
sumed La  Faloise,  disdainfully.  "He  was  greatly  mistaken  if 
he  thought  he  was  going  to  astonish  us  with  his  roasting!  Not 
a  soul  talks  of  it  now.  He's  out  of  it,  done  for,  scratched. 
Vandeuvres!  talk  of  another!"  Then,  as  Steiner  shook  hands 
with  them,  he  continued,  "You  know  Nana's  just  arrived.  Oh! 
such  an  entry,  my  boy!  something  prodigious!  First  of  all,  she 
embraced  the  countess;  then,  when  the  children  drew  near,  she 

C3433 


NANA 

blessed  them,  saying  to  Daguenet,  'Listen,  Paul;  if  you  deceive 
her  ^fcu'II  have  me  after  you/  What!  didn't  you  see  it?  Oh! 
she  was  grand!  such  a  success!" 

The  other  two  listened  to  him  with  their  mouths  open.  At 
length  they  burst  out  laughing.  He,  delighted,  thought  himself 
very  wonderful. 

"Eh!  you  believed  it  all?  Well,  why  not?  It's  Nana  who 
arranged  the  marriage.  Besides,  she's  one  of  the  family." 

The  two  Hugons  passed  just  then,  and  Philippe  made  him  desist. 
Then,  as  men,  they  talked  of  the  marriage.  George  became  very 
incensed  with  La  Faioise,  who  related  the  story  of  it.  Nana  had 
indeed  saddled  Muffat  with  one  of  her  former  lovers  for  a  son-in- 
law,  only  it  was  untrue  that  she  had  had  Daguenet  to  see  her  the 
night  before.  Foucarmont  incredulously  shrugged  his  shoulders. 
Did  any  one  ever  know  whom  Nana  had  to  see  her  of  a  night? 
But  George  angrily  replied  with  a  "Sir,  I  know!"  which  made 
them  all  laugh.  Anyhow,  as  Steiner  said,  it  was  a  very  peculiar 
state  of  affairs. 

Little  by  little  the  refreshment  tent  was  becoming  crowded. 
They  moved  away  from  the  bar,  without  separating.  La  Faioise 
stared  impudently  at  the  women,  as  though  he  thought  himself 
at  Mabille.  At  the  end  of  a  path  they  were  greatly  surprised 
on  beholding  M.  Venot  engaged  in  a  long  conversation  with 
Daguenet;  and  some  very  poor  jokes  amused  them  immensely. 
He  was  confessing  him;  he  was  giving  him  some  advice  for  the 
first  night.  Then  they  went  and  stood  in  front  of  one  of  the 
open  doors  of  the  drawing-room,  where  some  couples  dancing  a 
polka  were  steering  their  way  amidst  the  men  who  remained 
standing.  The  candles  were  guttering  from  the  breeze  coming  from 
outside.  When  a  couple  passed,  keeping  time  to  the  music,  it 
refreshed  the  heated  atmosphere  like  a  gentle  puff  of  wind. 

"By  Jove!  they  can't  be  very  cold  in  there!"  murmured  La 
Faioise. 

Their  eyes  blinked  on  coming  from  out  of  the  mysterious 
shadows  of  the  garden;  and  they  drew  each  other's  attention  to 
the  Marquis  de  Chouard,  who,  standing  all  alone,  and  stretched 
to  the  full  height  of  his  tall  figure,  overlooked  the  bare  shoulders 
around  him.  His  pale  face  appeared  very  severe,  and  bore  an 
expression  of  haughty  dignity  beneath  his  crown  of  scanty  white 
locks.  Scandalized  by  Count  Muffat's  conduct,  he  had  publicly 

C3443 


NANA 

broken  off  all  connection  with  him,  and  affected  not  to  visit  at 
the  house.  If  he  had  consented  to  appear  on  this  occasion,  it 
was  on  account  of  the  earnest  entreaties  of  his  grand-daughter, 
whose  marriage,  however,  he  disapproved  of  in  indignant 
language  against  the  disorganisation  of  the  upper  classes  by  the 
shameful  compromises  of  modern  debauchery. 

"Ah!  the  end  is  at  hand,"  Madame  du  Joncquoy,  beside  the 
fire-place,  was  whispering  to  Madame  Chantereau.  "That  hussy 
has  so  bewitched  the  unhappy  fellow.  We  who  used  to  know 
him  so  staunch  a  believer  —  so  noble!" 

"It  appears  that  he's  ruining  himself,"  continued  Madame 
Chantereau.  "My  husband  has  had  a  note  of  his.  He  lives  now 
altogether  in  that  mansion  of  the  Avenue  de  Villiers.  All  Paris 
is  talking  about  him.  Really!  I  cannot  excuse  Sabine  either, 
though  we  must  admit  that  he  gives  her  a  great  many  causes  for 
complaint;  and,  well!  if  she  also  throws  the  money  out  of  the 
window  — " 

"She  does  not  only  throw  money,"  interrupted  the  other. 
"Well,  as  they  are  both  at  work,  they  will  reach  the  end  all 
the  sooner.  A  regular  drowning  in  the  mire,  my  dear." 

But  a  gentle  voice  interrupted  them.  It  was  M.  Venot.  He 
had  come  and  seated  himself  behind  them,  as  though  desirous 
of  being  out  of  the  way;  and  leaning  towards  them,  he  murmured, 

"Why  despair?    God  manifests  Himself  when  all  seems  lost." 

He  was  peacefully  assisting  at  the  downfall  of  that  house 
which  once  upon  a  time  he  had  governed.  Ever  since  his  sojourn 
at  Les  Fondettes,  he  had  quietly  allowed  the  undermining  to  go 
on,  fully  aware  of  how  powerless  he  was  to  cope  with  it.  He  had 
accepted  everything  —  the  count's  mad  infatuation  for  Nana, 
Fauchery's  close  attendance  on  the  countess,  even  Daguenet's 
marriage  with  Estelle.  What  mattered  those  things?  And  he 
showed  himself  more  supple,  more  mysterious,  entertaining  the 
idea  of  influencing  the  young  couple  the  same  as  he  had  the  now 
disunited  one,  knowing  that  great  disorders  lead  to  great  de- 
votions. Providence  would  have  its  hour. 

"Our  friend,"  continued  he  in  a  low  voice,  "is  still  animated 
with  the  best  religious  sentiments.  He  has  given  me  the  sweetest 
proofs." 

"Well,  then!"  said  Madame  du  Joncquoy;  "he  should  first 
of  all  make  it  up  with  his  wife." 

C3453 


NANA 

*No  doubt.  Just  now  I  happen  to  have  the  hope  that  their 
reconciliation  will  not  be  long  in  coming  about." 

Then  the  two  old  ladies  questioned  him;  but  he  became  very 
humble  again.  They  must  let  Heaven  accomplish  it  in  its  own 
way.  His  sole  desire  in  bringing  the  count  and  countess  closer 
together  was  to  avoid  a  public  scandal.  Religion  tolerated  many 
failings  when  appearances  were  kept  up. 

"At  any  rate,"  resumed  Madame  du  Joncquoy,  "you  ought 
to  have  prevented  this  marriage  with  this  adventurer." 

"You  are  mistaken;  M.  Daguenet  is  a  very  worthy  young  man. 
I  am  acquainted  with  his  ideas.  He  wishes  to  cause  his  youth- 
ful errors  to  be  forgotten.  Estelle  will  bring  him  into  the  right 
path,  you  may  be  sure." 

"Oh,  Estelle!"  disdainfully  murmured  Madame  Chantereau. 
"I  think  the  dear  child  is  quite  without  any  will  whatever.  She 
is  altogether  so  insignificant!" 

This  expression  of  opinion  caused  M.  Venot  to  smile.  How- 
ever, he  did  not  explain  himself  respecting  the  young  bride. 
Closing  his  eyes,  as  though  to  withdraw  from  the  conversation, 
he  again  hid  himself  in  his  corner  behind  the  skirts.  Madame 
Hugon,  in  the  midst  of  her  absent-minded  weariness,  had  over- 
heard a  few  words.  She  joined  in,  and  as  she  addressed  herself 
to  the  Marquis  de  Chouard,  who  had  come  to  greet  her,  thus 
concluded  with  her  tolerating  air: 

"You  ladies  are  too  severe.  Existence  is  already  so  bad  for 
everyone.  Eh!  my  friend?  we  ought  to  forgive  a  great  deal  in 
others,  when  we  wish  to  be  ourselves  worthy  of  pardon." 

The  marquis  remained  embarrassed  for  a  few  moments,  fearing 
an  allusion  to  himself.  But  the  good  lady  had  so  sad  a  smile, 
that  he  soon  regained  his  composure,  and  said, 

"No,  certain  faults  deserve  no  pardon.  It  is  by  such  complai- 
sances that  society  totters  on  its  foundations." 

The  ball  had  become  more  animated  than  ever.  Another 
quadrille  gave  a  kind  of  gentle  swing  to  the  floor  of  the  drawing- 
room,  as  though  the  old  house  had  staggered  beneath  the  com- 
motion of  the  merry-making.  Now  and  again,  in  the  mixed 
paleness  of  the  faces,  there  stood  out  a  woman's  countenance, 
carried  away  by  the  dance,  with  sparkling  eyes  and  parted  lips, 
and  the  full  light  of  a  chandelier  shining  on  her  white  skin.  Ma- 
dame du  Joncquoy  declared  that  the  count  and  countess  must 

C3463 


NANA 

have  been  out  of  their  senses.  It  was  madness  to  squeeze  five 
hundred  people  into  a  room  that  could  scarcely  hold  two  hundred. 
Why  not  have  the  contract  signed  on  the  Place  du  Carrousel 
at  once?  It  was  the  result  of  new  manners,  Madame  Chantereau 
said.  In  her  younger  days  such  solemnities  took  place  in  the 
bosom  of  one's  family;  now  one  must  have  a  mob,  the  whole 
street  being  freely  allowed  to  enter.  Unless  one  had  such  a  crush, 
the  entertainment  would  be  considered  quiet  and  uneventful. 
One  advertised  one's  luxury,  one  introduced  into  one's  abode  the 
very  scum  of  Paris;  and  there  was  nothing  more  natural  if  such 
promiscuousness  ended  by  corrupting  the  home.  The  two  ladies 
complained  that  they  did  not  know  more  than  fifty  of  the  persons 
present.  How  was  it  so?  Young  girls  in  low-neck  dresses  dis- 
played their  bare  shoulders;  a  woman  wore  a  golden  dagger 
stuck  in  her  chignon,  whilst  the  body  of  her  dress,  embroidered 
with  jet  black  beads,  looked  like  a  coat  of  mail;  another  was 
being  smilingly  followed  about,  her  skirts  so  tight  fitting  that 
they  gave  her  a  most  singular  appearance.  All  the  luxury  of  the 
close  of  the  winter  season  was  there,  the  world  of  pleasure  with 
its  tolerations,  all  that  which  the  mistress  of  a  house  picks  from 
her  acquaintances  of  a  day,  a  society  where  great  names  and  great 
infamies  elbowed  each  other  in  the  same  appetite  for  pleasure. 
The  heat  was  increasing,  the  quadrille  unrolled  the  cadenced 
symmetry  of  its  figures  amidst  the  overcrowded  rooms. 

"The  countess  is  stunning!"  resumed  La  Faloise  at  the  gar- 
den door.  "She  looks  ten  years  younger  than  her  daughter. 
By  the  way,  Foucarmont,  you  can  give  us  some  information. 
Vandeuvres  used  to  bet  that  she  had  no  thighs  worth  speaking 
of." 

This  affectation  of  cynicism  bored  the  other  gentlemen.  Fou- 
carmont contented  himself  with  replying, 

"Consult  your  cousin,  my  boy.     He's  just  coming  this  way.'* 

"Yes!  that's  an  idea,"  cried  La  Faloise.  "I'll  bet  ten  louis 
that  her  thighs  are  good." 

Fauchery  was  indeed  just  arriving.  As  an  intimate  friend  of 
the  house,  he  had  passed  through  the  dining-room  so  as  to  avoid 
the  crush  at  the  doors.  Taken  up  again  by  Rose  at  the  beginning 
of  the  winter,  he  now  divided  himself  between  the  singer  and  the 
countess,  feeling  very  wearied,  not  knowing  how  to  break  off 
with  one  of  the  two.  Sabine  flattered  his  vanity,  but  Rose  amused 

c  347:1 


NANA 

him  more.  The  latter,  too,  entertained  a  genuine  affection  for 
him,  a  tenderness  of  really  conjugal  fidelity,  which  grieved  Mignon 
immensely. 

"Listen,  we  want  some  information,"  said  La  Faloise,  squeez- 
ing his  cousin's  arm.  "You  see  that  lady  in  white  silk?" 

Ever  since  his  inheritance  had  given  him  an  insolent  assurance, 
he  affected  to  poke  fun  at  Fauchery,  having  an  old  spite  to  gratify, 
wishing  to  be  revenged  for  the  banterings  of  the  time  when  he 
first  arrived  from  the  country. 

"Yes,  that  lady  who  has  a  lot  of  lace  about  her." 

The  journalist  stood  on  tiptoe,  not  yet  understanding.  "The 
countess?"  he  ended  by  saying. 

"Just  so,  my  boy..  I've  bet  ten  louis.    Are  her  thighs  good?" 

And  he  burst  out  laughing,  delighted  at  having  succeeded  in 
taking  down  a  peg  that  fellow  who  had  once  amazed  him  so 
much  when  he  asked  him  if  the  countess  had  a  lover.  But  Fau- 
chery, without  showing  the  least  surprise,  looked  him  straight 
in  the  face. 

"You  idiot!"  said  he  at  last,  shrugging  his  shoulders. 

Then  he  shook  hands  with  the  other  gentlemen,  whilst  La 
Faloise,  quite  put  out  of  countenance,  was  no  longer  very  sure 
of  having  said  something  funny.  They  stood  conversing  to- 
gether. Ever  since  the  races,  the  banker  and  Foucarmont  had 
joined  the  set  at  the  Avenue  de  Villiers.  Nana  was  much  better; 
the  count  called  every  evening  to  see  how  she  was  progressing. 
However,  Fauchery,  who  merely  listened,  seemed  preoccupied. 
That  morning,  during  a  quarrel,  Rose  had  deliberately  told  him 
that  she  had  sent  the  letter.  Yes,  he  might  go  and  call  on  his 
grand  lady,  he  would  be  well  received.  After  hesitating  for  a 
long  time,  he  had  courageously  made  up  his  mind  to  come.  But 
La  Faloise's  stupid  joke  had  upset  him,  in  spite  of  his  apparent 
serenity. 

"What's  the  matter  with  you?"  asked  Philippe.  "You  don't 
seem  well." 

"I?  oh!  Pm  all  right.  I've  been  working,  that's  why  I'm  so 
late."  Then,  coolly,  with  one  of  those  unknown  heroisms  which 
unravel  the  common  tragedies  of  life,  he  added,  "With  all  that, 
I've  not  paid  my  respects  to  our  hosts.  One  must  be  polite." 

He  even  dared  to  joke,  and  turning  to  La  Faloise,  said,  "Am 
I  not  right,  idiot?" 

C3483 


NANA 

And  he  made  a  passage  for  himself  through  the  crowd.  The 
footman  was  no  longer  bawling  out  the  names.  The  count  and 
countess,  however,  were  still  near  the  door,  conversing  with  some 
ladies  who  had  just  entered.  At  length  he  reached  the  spot  where 
they  stood,  whilst  the  gentlemen  he  had  just  left  on  the  steps 
leading  into  the  garden  stood  up  on  tiptoe  to  have  a  good  view 
of  the  scene.  Nana  must  have  been  gossiping. 

"The  count  does  not  see  him,"  murmured  George.  "Atten- 
tion! he's  turning  round.  There,  now  they're  at  it." 

The  orchestra  was  again  playing  the  waltz  of  the  "Blonde 
Venus."  First  of  all,  Fauchery  bowed  to  the  countess,  who 
continued  to  smile,  serenely  delighted.  Then  he  stood  for  a 
moment  immovable,  calmly  waiting,  behind  the  count's  back. 
The  count  that  night  maintained  his  haughty  gravity  —  the 
official  bearing  of  a  high  dignitary.  When  at  length  he  lowered 
his  eyes  towards  the  journalist,  he  exaggerated  still  more  his 
majestic  attitude.  For  some  seconds  the  two  men  looked  at  each 
other;  and  it  was  Fauchery  who  first  held  out  his  hand.  Muff  at 
clasped  it.  Their  hands  were  locked  one  in  the  other.  Countess 
Sabine  smiled  in  front  of  them,  her  eyes  cast  on  the  ground; 
whilst  the  waltz  continued  to  unroll  its  saucy  rhythm. 

"But  it's  going  splendidly!"  said  Steiner. 

"Are  their  hands  glued  together?"  asked  Foucarmont,  amazed 
at  the  length  of  time  they  remained  clasped. 

An  invincible  recollection  brought  a  rosy  blush  to  Fauchery's 
pale  cheeks.  He  again  beheld  the  property-room,  with  its  greenish 
light  and  its  odd  assortment  of  things  smothered  with  dust; 
and  Muff  at  was  there,  holding  the  egg-cup,  and  taking  advantage 
of  his  suspicions.  Now,  Muff  at  no  longer  had  any  doubts;  it 
was  a  last  shred  of  dignity  collapsing.  Fauchery,  relieved  of  his 
fright,  seeing  the  countess's  evident  gaiety,  was  seized  with  a 
desire  to  laugh.  It  seemed  to  him  so  comic. 

"Ah!  this  time  it  is  indeed  she!"  exclaimed  La  Faloise,  who 
stuck  to  a  joke  when  once  he  thought  it  a  good  one.  "There's 
Nana  over  there.  Look,  she's  entering  the  room!" 

"Shut  up,  you  idiot!"  murmured  Philippe. 

"I  tell  you  it  is  she!  They're  playing  her  waltz!  She  comes; 
and,  besides,  she's  had  a  share  in  the  reconciliation.  Dash  it 
all!  What!  you  don't  see  her!  She's  pressing  them  all  to  her 
heart  —  my  male  cousin,  my  female  cousin  and  her  spouse  — 

C3493 


NANA 

and  calling  them  her  little  ducky  darlings.    They  always  upset 
me,  these  family  scenes." 

Estelle  had  drawn  near.  Fauchery  complimented  her,  whilst 
she,  looking  very  stiff  in  her  pink  dress,  watched  him  with  the 
surprised  air  of  a  silent  child,  glancing  also  at  her  father  and 
mother.  Daguenet,  too,  heartily  shook  hands  with  the  journalist. 
They  formed  a  smiling  group;  and  M.  Venot  glided  behind, 
looking  tenderly  on  them,  enveloping  them  all  with  his  devout 
meekness,  happy  at  beholding  these  last  defections,  which  were 
preparing  the  ways  of  Providence. 

But  the  waltz  still  continued  its  voluptuous  whirl.     It  was 
an  increase  of  the  wave  of  pleasure,  overtaking  the  old  mansion 
like  a  rising  tide.     The  orchestra  swelled  the  trills  of  its  little 
flutes,  the  rapturous  sighs  of  its  violins;    beneath  the  Genoa 
velvet  hangings,  the  gildings  and  the  paintings,  the  chandeliers 
gave  out  a  life-like  warmth,  a  light  as  bright  as  sunshine;  whilst 
the  crowd  of  guests  reflected  in  the  mirrors,  seemed  to  increase 
with  the  louder  murmur  of  the  voices.     Around  the  drawing- 
room,   the  couples  which  passed  with  arms  encircling  waists, 
amidst  the  smiles  of  seated  women,  accentuated  the  shaking  of 
the  flooring.    In  the  garden  the  ember-like  glimmer  of  the  Vene- 
tian lanterns  lighted  up  the  dark  shadows  of  the  promenaders 
seeking  a  breath  of  air  along  the  walks,  as  though  with  the  distant 
reflection  of  a  fire.    And  this  trembling  of  the  walls,  this  ruddy 
cloud,  was  like  the  blazing  of  the  end,  in  which  the  ancient  family 
honour  fell  to  pieces,  burning  at  the  four  corners  of  the  home.    The 
timid  gaieties,  then  scarcely  beginning,  which  one  April  evening 
Fauchery  had  heard  ring  with  a  sound  of  breaking  glass,  had 
little  by  little  become  emboldened,  maddened,  to  burst  forth  into 
the  resplendency  of  that  entertainment.    Now,  the  crack  increased ; 
it  attacked  the  house,   and  gave  warning  of  its  approaching 
destruction.     Amongst  the  drunkards  of  the  slums,  it  is  by  the 
blackest  misery  —  the  cupboard  without  bread,  the  craving  for 
alcohol  eating  up  the  last  sticks  —  that  corrupted  families  reach 
their  end.     Here,  over  the  downfall  of  these  riches,  heaped  to- 
gether and  set  fire  to  at  one  fell  swoop,  the  waltz  sounded  the 
knell  of  an  ancient  race;    whilst  Nana,  invisible,  but  hovering 
above  the  ball  with  her  supple  limbs,  polluted  all  those  people, 
penetrating  them  with  the  ferment  of  her  odour  floating  in  the 
warm  air  upon  the  wings  of  the  saucy  rhythm  of  the  music. 

1:3503 


NANA 

It  was  on  the  night  of  the  wedding  at  the  church  that  Count 
MufFat  appeared  in  his  wife's  bed-room,  which  he  had  not  entered 
for  two  years  past.  The  countess,  greatly  surprised,  drew  back 
at  first,  but  she  preserved  her  smile  —  that  smile  of  intoxication 
which  now  never  left  her.  He,  very  much  embarrassed,  could 
only  stutter  a  few  words.  Then  she  gave  him  a  little  lecture. 
But  neither  the  one  nor  the  other  ventured  on  a  complete  explana- 
tion. It  was  religion  that  required  this  mutual  forgiveness; 
and  it  was  tacitly  agreed  between  them  that  they  should  retain 
their  liberty.  Before  going  to  bed,  as  the  countess  still  seemed 
to  hesitate,  they  discussed  business  matters.  He,  the  first,  talked 
of  selling  Les  Bordes.  She  at  once  consented.  They  both  had 
great  want  of  money;  they  would  share  the  proceeds.  That 
completed  the  reconciliation.  Muffat  experienced  a  real  relief 
in  spite  of  his  remorse. 

That  day,  too,  as  Nana  was  dozing,  towards  two  o'clock,  Zoe 
ventured  to  knock  at  the  door  of  her  bed-room.  The  curtains 
were  drawn,  a  warm  breeze  entered  by  one  of  the  windows,  in 
the  still  freshness  of  the  subdued  light.  The  young  woman  got 
up  a  little  now,  though  still  rather  weak.  She  opened  her  eyes 
and  asked, 

"Who  is  it?" 

Zoe  was  about  to  reply,  but  Daguenet,  forcing  his  way  in, 
announced  himself.  On  hearing  him,  she  leant  upon  the  pillow, 
and,  sending  the  maid  away,  said, 

"What,  it's  you!  on  your  wedding  day!  Whatever  is  the 
matter?" 

He,  not  seeing  clearly,  remained  standing  in  the  middle  of 
the  room.  However,  he  soon  got  used  to  the  obscurity,  and 
advanced  forward  in  his  dress  clothes,  with  a  white  tie  and  gloves; 
and  he  kept  saying, 

"Well!  yes,  it's  I.    Don't  you  recollect?" 

No,  she  remembered  nothing.  So  he  had  to  crudely  refresh 
her  memory,  in  his  jocular  way. 

"Why,  your  commission.  .I've  brought  you  the  handsel  of 
my  innocence." 

Then,  as  he  was  close  to  the  bed,  she  seized  hold  of  him  with 
her  bare  arms,  shaking  with  laughter  and,  almost  weeping,  for 
she  thought  it  so  nice  of  him. 

"Ah!  my  Mimi,  how  funny  he  is!     He  has  not  forgotten  it! 


NANA 

and  I  who  no  longer  remembered!  So  you've  given  them  the 
slip,  you've  just  come  from  the  church?  It's  true  —  you've  an 
odour  of  incense  about  you.  But  kiss  me — !  oh!  more  than  that, 
my  Mimi!  It  will  perhaps  be  for  the  last  time." 

Their  tender  laugh  expired  in  the  darkened  room,  about  which 
there  still  hung  a  vague  smell  of  ether.  The  close  warmth  swelled 
the  window  curtains,  children's  voices  sounded  in  the  Avenue. 
Then  they  made  merry,  though  pressed  for  time.  Daguenet  was 
to  leave  with  his  wife,  directly  after  the  wedding  breakfast. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

'T^OWARDS  the  end  of  September,  Count  Muffat,  who  was 
to  dine  at  Nana's  that  evening,  came  at  dusk  to  inform  her 
A  of  a  sudden  order  he  had  received  to  be  at  the  Tuileries. 
The  house  was  not  yet  lighted  up,  the  servants  were  laughing 
very  loudly  in  the  kitchen.  He  slowly  ascended  the  staircase, 
the  windows  of  which  shone  in  the  prevailing  warm  shadow. 
Upstairs,  the  parlour  door  made  no  noise  as  he  opened  it.  A  rosy 
daylight  was  fading  from  the  ceiling  of  the  room.  The  crimson 
hangings,  the  capacious  sofas,  the  lacquer  furniture,  all  that 
medley  of  embroidered  stuffs,  of  bronzes  and  of  china,  was  already 
disappearing  beneath  a  slowly  deepening  veil  of  gloom,  which 
penetrated  the  corners,  hiding  alike  the  brilliancy  of  the  ivory 
and  the  glitter  of  the  gold.  And  there,  in  this  obscurity,  by  the 
aid  alone  of  the  light  colour  of  her  dress,  he  beheld  Nana  reclining 
in  George's  arms.  All  denial  on  their  part  was  impossible.  He 
uttered  a  suppressed  cry,  and  stood  as  one  lost. 

Nana  sprang  to  her  feet  and  pushed  him  into  the  bedroom,  to 
give  the  youngster  time  to  get  off. 

"Come  in  here,"  she  murmured,  scarcely  knowing  what  she  said. 
"I  will  explain  - 

She  was  exasperated  at  being  caught  like  that.  She  had 
never  before  given  way  in  such  a  manner  at  home,  in  that  par- 
lour with  the  doors  unfastened.  A  number  of  things  had  tended 
to  bring  it  about  —  a  quarrel  with  George,  who  was  madly 
jealous  of  Philippe.  He  sobbed  so  bitterly  on  her  neck  that  she 
could  not  resist,  scarcely  knowing  how  to  calm  him,  and  pitying 
him  in  her  heart.  And,  on  the  one  occasion  when  she  was  so  foolish 
as  to  forget  herself  thus  —  with  a  youngster  who  could  not  even 
bring  her  bunches  of  violets  now,  as  his  mother  guarded  him  so 
strictly  —  the  count  must  needs  come  and  catch  them.  Really, 
she  had  no  luck!  That  was  all  one  got  by  being  a  good-natured 
girl! 

However,  the  obscurity  in  the  bed-room,  where  she  had  pushed 

£353:1 


NANA 

the  count,  was  complete.  Then,  feeling  her  way,  she  went  and 
rang  furiously  for  a  lamp.  After  all,  it  was  that  Julien's  fault! 
If  there  had  been  a  light  in  the  parlour,  nothing  of  all  this  would 
have  happened.  That  stupid  darkness  which  had  come  had  on 
played  the  deuce  with  her  heart. 

"I  beg  of  you,  ducky,  be  reasonable,"  said  she,  when  Zoe 
brought  a  light. 

The  count,  sitting  down,  his  hands  on  his  knees,  looked  on  the 
ground,  overcome  by  what  he  had  just  seen.  He  could  not  utter 
a  word  of  anger.  He  trembled,  as  though  seized  with  a  horror 
which  froze  him.  This  silent  anguish  deeply  affected  the  young 
woman.  She  tried  to  console  him. 

"Well!  yes,  I  was  wrong.  It  was  very  naughty  of  me.  You 
see,  I  am  sorry  for  my  fault.  I  am  very  grieved,  as  it  annoys 
you  so  much.  Come  now;  you,  too,  be  nice,  and  forgive  me." 

She  had  sat  down  at  his  feet,  and  was  seeking  his  glance  with 
a  look  of  submissive  tenderness,  to  see  if  he  was  very  angry  with 
her.  Then  as,  heaving  a  deep  sigh,  he  recovered  himself,  she 
became  more  wheedling. 

The  count  yielded  to  her  entreaties.  He  merely  insisted  on 
George  being  sent  away.  But  all  illusion  was  gone;  he  could 
no  longer  believe  in  Nana's  sworn  fidelity.  On  the  morrow  Nana 
would  deceive  him  again;  and  he  remained  in  the  torment  of 
possessing  her  simply  through  cowardice  —  through  his  fright  at 
the  idea  of  living  without  her. 

This  was  the  epoch  of  her  existence  when  Nana  brightened 
Paris  with  an  increase  of  splendour.  She  became  more  imposing 
still  on  the  horizon  of  vice;  she  domineered  over  the  city  with  the 
insolent  display  of  her  luxury,  with  her  contempt  for  money, 
which  caused  her  to  publicly  melt  away  fortunes.  In  her  man- 
sion there  was  like  the  glare  of  a  furnace.  Her  continual  desires 
fed  it.  The  least  breath  from  her  lips  would  change  the  gold 
into  fine  ashes,  which  the  wind  swept  away  at  every  hour.  Never 
before  had  such  a  mania  for  expense  been  seen.  The  house  seemed 
built  over  an  abyss,  into  which  men  with  their  wealth,  their  bodies, 
even  their  names,  were  precipitated,  without  leaving  the  trace,  of 
a  little  dust  behind.  This  girl  with  the  tastes  of  a  parrot,  nibbling 
radishes  and  burnt  almonds,  playing  with  her  meat,  had  bills  to 
the  extent  of  five  thousand  francs  a  month  for  her  table.  In  the 
servants*  hall  there  was  unbridled  waste,  a  ferocious  leakage, 

c  354:1 


NANA 

which  emptied  the  casks  of  wine,  and  ran  up  bills  increased  by 
three  or  four  hands  through  which  they  passed.  Victorine  and 
Francois  reigned  supreme  in  the  kitchen,  where  they  invited 
their  friends,  not  to  speak  of  a  host  of  cousins  whom  they  fed  at 
their  own  homes  with  cold  joints  and  meat  soups.  Julien  exacted 
commissions  from  all  the  tradespeople.  A  glazier  did  not  put  in 
a  thirty  sou  pane  of  glass  but  the  butler  had  twenty  added  on  for 
himself.  Charles  devoured  the  oats  for  the  horses,  ordering  double 
the  necessary  supply,  selling  by  a  back  door  what  came  in  by  the 
front  one;  whilst  in  the  midst  of  this  universal  pillage,  of  this 
sack  of  a  town  taken  by  assault,  Zoe,  by  great  art,  succeeded  in 
saving  appearances,  covering  the  thefts  of  all  the  others  the 
better  to  hide  and  secure  her  own.  But  what  was  wasted  was 
still  worse  —  the  food  of  the  previous  day  thrown  in  the  gutter, 
an  incumbrance  of  victuals  at  which  the  servants  turned  up 
their  noses,  the  glasses  all  sticky  with  sugar,  gas-jets  blazing  away, 
turned  on  recklessly,  sufficient  to  blow  up  the  place;  and  neg- 
ligences, and  spitefulness,  and  accidents,  all  that  can  hasten  ruin 
in  an  establishment  devoured  by  so  many  mouths. 

Then,  upstairs  in  madame's  rooms,  the  downfall  was  even 
greater  still.  Dresses  costing  ten  thousand  francs,  worn  only 
twice,  and  sold  by  Zoe;  jewels  which  disappeared  as  though 
they  had  crumbled  away  at  the  bottoms  of  the  drawers;  idiotic 
purchases,  novelties  of  the  day,  forgotten  in  a  corner  on  the 
morrow,  and  swept  into  the  street.  She  could  never  see  any- 
thing costing  a  great  deal  without  desiring  it;  she  thus  created 
around  her  a  continual  devastation  of  flowers  and  precious  knick- 
knacks,  being  all  the  more  delighted  in  proportion  to  the  price 
paid  for  them.  Nothing  remained  perfect  in  her  hands;  she  broke 
everything,  or  it  faded  or  became  soiled  between  her  little  white 
fingers;  a  strewing  of  nameless  remnants,  of  crumpled  rags,  of 
muddy  tatters,  followed  in  her  wake.  Then  the  heavy  settle- 
ments burst  out  in  the  midst  of  this  waste  of  pocket-money. 
Twenty  thousand  francs  owing  to  the  milliner,  thirty  thousand 
to  the  linendraper,  twelve  thousand  to  the  bootmaker,  her  stable 
had  swallowed  fifty  thousand,  in  six  months  her  dressmaker's 
bill  had  run  up  to  a  hundred  thousand  francs.  Without  her 
having  added  to  her  household,  which  Labordette  had  estimated 
would  cost  on  an  average  four  hundred  thousand  francs  yearly, 
she  reached  that  year  a  million,  amazed  herself  at  the  sum,  and 

IT355  3 


NANA 

quite  incapable  of  saying  where  all  the  money  could  possibly 
have  gone  to.  Men  piled  up  one  upon  the  other,  gold  emptied 
out  in  barrowfuls,  were  unable  to  fill  that  chasm  which  was 
for  ever  opening  deeper  and  deeper  beneath  the  foundations  of 
her  house,  in  the  disruption  of  her  luxury. 

Nana,  however,  still  nursed  a  last  caprice.  Agitated  once 
more  with  the  idea  of  re-decorating  her  bed-room,  she  thought 
she  had  at  last  found  something  to  suit  her  fancy  —  a  room  hung 
in  tea-rose  velvet,  padded  and  reaching  up  to  the  ceiling,  in  the 
shape  of  a  tent,  ornamented  with  little  silver  buttons  and  with 
gold  lace  and  cords.  It  seemed  to  her  that  this  would  look  both 
rich  and  tender,  a  superb  background  to  her  fair  skin.  But  the 
room,  however,  was  merely  to  serve  as  a  framework  to  the  bed, 
a  prodigy  of  dazzling  brightness.  Nana  dreamed  of  a  bed  such  as 
was  never  seen  before  — a  throne,  an  altar,  to  which  all  Paris 
would  come  to  adore  her  sovereign  nudity.  It  was  to  be  entirely 
of  gold  and  silver,  like  an  immense  jewel,  golden  roses  scattered 
over  a  silver  network;  at  the  head,  a  band  of  cupids  amongst 
the  flowers  would  be  glancing  down,  with  laughter  on  their  faces, 
watching  the  voluptuous  pleasures  in  the  shadow  of  the  curtains. 
She  had  consulted  Labordette,  who  had  brought  two  goldsmiths 
to  see  her.  They  were  already  preparing  the  drawings.  The 
bed  was  to  cost  fifty  thousand  francs,  and  Muffat  was  to  present 
her  with  it  as  a  new  year  gift. 

What  surprised  the  young  woman  was  that  in  this  ever-flowing 
river  of  gold  she  was  constantly  without  money.  Some  days  she 
scarcely  knew  what  to  do  for  want  of  the  most  ridiculous  sums, 
of  a  few  louis.  She  had  to  borrow  of  Zoe,  or  else  raise  funds  any 
way  she  could.  But  before  resigning  herself  to  extreme  measures, 
she  would  sound  her  friends,  getting  out  of  the  men  whatever  they 
had  about  them,  even  sous,  in  a  jocular  sort  of  way.  For  three 
months  past  she  had  especially  been  emptying  Philippe's  pockets 
in  this  manner.  He  now  never  called,  whenever  there  was  a 
crisis  at  hand,  without  leaving  his  purse  behind  him  on  leaving. 
Soon,  becoming  bolder,  Nana  had  begun  to  ask  him  for  loans  — 
two  hundred  francs,  three  hundred  francs,  never  more  —  for  bills 
becoming  due,  or  debts  that  could  not  remain  longer  unpaid; 
and  Philippe,  who,  in  July,  had  been  made  a  captain,  and  pay- 
master of  his  regiment,  would  bring  the  money  on  the  morrow, 
with  the  excuse  that  he  was  not  rich,  for  good  Madame  Hugon 

1:3563 


NANA 

now  treated  her  sons  with  singular  harshness.  At  the  end  of 
three  months  these  little  loans,  often  repeated,  amounted  to  some 
ten  thousand  francs.  The  captain  still  laughed  in  his  hearty, 
sonorous  way,  yet  he  was  growing  thin,  appearing  absent-minded 
at  times,  with  a  look  of  suffering  on  his  face;  but  a  glance  from 
Nana  transfigured  him,  in  a  sort  of  sensual  ecstasy.  She  was  very 
playful  with  him,  intoxicating  him  with  kisses  behind  doors,  be- 
witching him  with  sudden  abandonments  of  herself,  which  tied 
him  to  her  petticoats  the  whole  time  he  was  off  duty. 

One  night,  Nana  having  mentioned  that  her  name  was  also 
Therese,  and  that  her  saint' s-day  was  on  the  I5th  October,  the 
gentlemen  all  sent  her  presents.  Captain  Philippe  brought  his  — 
an  old  Saxon  china  comfit-box,  mounted  with  gold.  He  found 
her  alone  in  her  dressing-room,  having  just  come  out  of  her  bath, 
clothed  only  in  a  loose  scarlet  and  white  flannel  dressing-gown, 
and  very  busy  examining  the  presents  spread  out  on  a  table. 
She  had  already  broken  a  scent  bottle  in  rock  crystal  in  trying 
to  take  the  stopper  out. 

"Oh!  you  are  too  nice,"  said  she.  "Whatever  is  it?  show  me. 
What  a  child  you  are  to  spend  your  money  in  things  like  this!" 

She  scolded  him,  because  he  was  not  rich,  although  really 
very  pleased  to  see  him  spend  all  he  had  on  her,  the  only  proof 
of  love  which  ever  touched  her.  However,  she  handled  the  comfit- 
box,  wishing  to  see  how  it  was  made,  opening  and  shutting  it. 

"Take  care,"  he  murmured;    "it's  not  very  strong." 

But  she  shrugged  her  shoulders.  Did  he  think  she  had  the 
hands  of  a  railway  porter?  And  suddenly  the  hinge  remained 
between  her  fingers,  whilst  the  lid  fell  to  the  ground  and  broke. 
She  stood  lost  in  amazement,  with  her  eyes  fixed  on  the  pieces. 

"Oh!  it's  broken!"  said  she. 

Then  she  began  to  laugh.  The  pieces  on  the  floor  looked  funny 
to  her.  It  was  a  nervous  gaiety.  She  had  the  stupid  and  cruel 
laugh  of  a  child  who  finds  amusement  in  destruction.  Philippe 
was  seized  for  a  moment  with  a  feeling  of  indignation.  The 
wretched  woman  did  not  know  what  agony  that  trifle  had  cost 
him.  When  she  saw  him  looking  so  upset,  she  endeavoured  to 
restrain  herself. 

"Anyhow,  it  wasn't  my  fault.  It  was  cracked.  Those  old 
things  never  keep  together.  It  was  the  lid!  Did  you  see  the 
stupid  way  in  which  it  fell  off?" 

C3573 


NANA 

And  she  burst  out  laughing  again.  But  as  the  young  man's 
eyes  filled  with  tears,  in  spite  of  his  efforts  to  restrain  them,  she 
lovingly  threw  her  arms  round  his  neck. 

"How  silly  you  are!  I  love  you  all  the  same.  If  nothing  was 
ever  broken,  the  dealers  would  never  sell  anything.  It's  all  made 
to  be  broken.  Look  at  this  fan!  it  isn't  even  stuck  together!" 

She  seized  hold  of  a  fan  and  roughly  pulled  it  open.  The  silk 
tore  in  two.  That  seemed  to  excite  her.  To  show  that  she  did 
not  care  anything  for  the  other  presents,  as  she  had  spoilt  his, 
she  regaled  herself  with  a  general  massacre,  knocking  the  different 
things  about,  proving,  as  she  destroyed  them  all,  there  was  not 
one  of  them  that  was  solid.  A  glimmer  lighted  up  her  vacant 
eyes,  a  slight  curl  of  her  lips  displayed  her  white  teeth.  Then 
when  all  the  things  were  in  pieces,  she  struck  the  table  with  her 
open  hands,  looking  very  red,  and  laughing  louder  than  ever, 
and  stammered  forth  in  a  childish  voice, 

"All  gone!  no  more!  no  more!" 

Then  Philippe,  yielding  to  the  intoxication,  cheered  up,  and 
pressing  against  her,  kissed  her  on  the  neck  and  bosom.  She 
abandoned  herself  to  him,  clinging  to  his  shoulders,  feeling  so 
happy  that  she  could  not  recollect  having  ever  enjoyed  herself 
so  much  before.  And  without  leaving  go  of  him,  she  caressingly 
said, 

"I  say,  darling;  you  might  manage  to  bring  me  ten  louis 
to-morrow.  It's  an  awful  nuisance  —  a  baker's  bill  which  is 
worrying  me." 

He  became  very  pale;  then  kissing  her  for  a  last  time  on  the 
forehead,  he  merely  said, 

"I  will  do  my  best." 

A  pause  ensued.  She  was  dressing  herself.  He  was  pressing 
his  face  against  the  window  pane.  At  the  end  of  a  minute  he 
returned  to  where  she  stood,  and  said  slowly, 

"Nana,  you  ought  to  marry  me." 

The  idea  seemed  so  ludicrous  to  the  young  woman,  that  she 
could  not  finish  fastening  her  petticoats. 

"But,  my  poor  fellow,  you  must  be  ill!  Is  it  because  I've 
asked  you  for  ten  louis  that  you  offer  me  your  hand?  Never, 
I  love  you  too  much  for  that.  What  a  stupid  idea  to  get  into 
your  head!" 

And,  as  Zoe  entered  the  room  to  put  madame's  boots  on, 

C358  3 


NANA 

they  dropped  the  subject.  The  maid  had  at  once  caught  sight 
of  the  remnants  of  the  presents  scattered  over  the  table.  She 
asked  if  they  were  to  be  put  anywhere;  and  madame  having 
said  that  they  could  be  thrown  away,  she  gathered  them  up  in 
her  apron.  Down  in  the  kitchen,  the  servants  quarrelled  together 
as  they  shared  madame's  leavings. 

That  day  George,  in  spite  of  having  been  forbidden  by  Nana 
to  do  so,  had  sneaked  into  the  house.  Francois  had  plainly 
enough  seen  him  come  in,  but  now  the  servants  merely  laughed 
among  themselves  over  their  mistress's  embarrassments.  He 
had  crept  into  the  parlour,  when  the  sound  of  his  brother's  voice 
arrested  his  advance;  and,  with  his  ear  at  the  key-hole,  he  had 
heard  all  that  had  taken  place  —  the  kisses,  the  offer  of  marriage. 
A  feeling  of  horror  froze  him,  he  went  off,  idiotic  and  with  a  sen- 
sation of  emptiness  in  his  head.  It  was  only  when  he  reached 
the  Rue  Richelieu,  in  his  room  over  his  mother's,  that  his  heart 
found  relief  in  furious  sobs.  This  time,  doubt  was  impossible. 
An  abominable  vision  kept  appearing  before  his  eyes  —  Nana  in 
Philippe's  arms;  and  it  seemed  to  him  an  incest.  When  he  thought 
himself  calmed,  memory  returned,  and  in  a  fresh  fit  of  jealous 
rage,  he  threw  himself  on  his  bed,  biting  the  sheets  and  uttering 
horrible  oaths,  which  increased  his  passion.  The  rest  of  the  day 
passed  thus.  He  complained  of  a  headache,  so  as  to  be  able  to 
remain  in  his  room.  But  the  night  was  more  terrible  still:  a 
murderous  fever  shook  his  frame  in  a  continuous  nightmare.  If 
his  brother  had  lived  in  the  house,  he  would  have  gone  and  stabbed 
him  with  a  knife.  When  day  returned,  he  tried  to  reason  with 
himself.  It  was  he  who  ought  to  die,  he  would  throw  himself 
from  the  window  as  an  omnibus  passed.  However,  towards  ten 
o'clock  he  went  out;  he  wandered  about  Paris,  rambled  over  the 
bridges,  and  then  at  last  felt  an  invincible  longing  to  see  Nana. 
Perhaps  with  a  word  she  would  save  him.  And  three  o'clock 
was  striking  as  he  entered  the  house  in  the  Avenue  de  Villiers. 

Towards  midday  some  shocking  news  had  quite  overwhelmed 
Madame  Hugon.  Philippe  had  been  in  prison  since  the  previous 
evening,  accused  of  having  stolen  twelve  thousand  francs  from 
the  regimental  chest.  For  three  months  past  he  had  been  em- 
bezzling small  sums,  hoping  to  replace  them,  and  hiding  the  def- 
icit by  means  of  false  accounts;  and  this  fraud  had  succeeded, 
thanks  to  the  negligence  of  the  managing  council.  The  old  lady, 

C3593 


NANA 

crushed  by  her  child's  crime,  uttered  at  first  a  cry  of  rage  against 
Nana.  She  knew  of  Philippe's  intimacy  with  the  young  woman. 
Her  sadness  came  from  this  misfortune,  which  was  the  cause  of 
her  remaining  in  Paris,  through  the  fear  of  some  catastrophe; 
but  never  had  she  dreaded  such  shame,  and  now  she  reproached 
herself  for  having  refused  him  money,  as  though  she  had  been 
an  accomplice.  Having  sunk  into  an  arm-chair,  her  legs,  so  to 
say,  paralysed,  she  felt  herself  useless,  incapable  of  doing  anything, 
only  fit  to  die;  but  the  sudden  thought  of  George  consoled  her. 
George  was  left  her  —  he  might  do  something,  perhaps  save  them 
both.  Then,  without  asking  help  from  anyone,  desirous  of  hiding 
all  this  amongst  themselves,  she  dragged  herself  along  and  as-- 
cended  the  stairs,  fortified  by  the  thought  that  she  still  had 
one  love  remaining.  But  the  room  above  was  empty.  The  door- 
keeper told  her  that  Monsieur  George  had  gone  out  early.  The 
signs  of  a  second  misfortune  hovered  about  the  room.  The  bed, 
with  its  torn  and  crumpled  sheets,  told  an  unmistakable  tale 
of  anguish;  a  chair  knocked  over  on  the  ground  amongst  some 
clothes,  seemed  to  forebode  death.  George  was  probably  at  that 
woman's,  and  Madame  Hugon,  with  dry  eyes  and  a  firm  step, 
descended  the  staircase.  She  wanted  her  sons,  she  was  going  to 
demand  them. 

Ever  since  the  morning  Nana  had  had  nothing  but  worry. 
First  of  all  there  was  that  baker,  who,  as  early  as  nine  o'clock 
had  called  with  his  bill,  a  mere  nothing — a  hundred  and  thirty- 
three  francs'  worth  of  bread,  which  she  had  been  unable  to  settle 
for,  in  the  midst  of  her  regal  style  of  living.  He  had  called  twenty 
times,  exasperated  at  having  lost  the  custom  on  the  day  he 
had  declined  to  give  further  credit;  and  the  servants  espoused 
his  cause.  Francois  said  that  madame  would  never  pay  him  if 
he  did  not  make  a  great  fuss;  Charles  talked  of  going  upstairs 
to  get  an  old  bill  for  straw  settled;  whilst  Victorine  advised 
them  to  wait  till  some  gentleman  called,  and  to  get  the  money 
by  going  to  the  drawing-room  when  he  was  there.  The  servants' 
hall  was  deeply  interested,  all  the  tradespeople  were  kept  in- 
formed of  what  was  going  on.  There  were  gossipings  of  three 
and  four  hours'  duration.  Madame  was  disrobed,  pulled  to 
pieces,  talked  about,  with  the  rancour  of  idle  menials  bursting 
with  good  living.  Julien,  the  butler,  alone  pretended  to  take 
madame's  part.  She  was,  all  the  same,  a  fine  woman;  and  when 

£3603 


NANA 

the  others  accused  him  of  having  enjoyed  some  of  her  favours, 
he  laughed  in  a  foppish  sort  of  way,  which  put  the  cook  beside 
herself,  for  she  would  have  liked  to  have  been  a  man  to  spit  on 
such  women,  they  disgusted  her  so  much.  Francois  had  mali- 
ciously left  the  baker  waiting  in  the  hall,  without  informing 
madame.  As  she  came  downstairs  at  lunch-time,  she  found  her- 
self face  to  face  with  him.  She  took  his  bill,  and  told  him  to  call 
again  about  three  o'clock.  Then,  muttering  a  number  of  filthy 
expressions,  he  went  off,  swearing  to  be  punctual,  and  to  pay 
himself  some  way  or  other. 

Nana  made  a  very  poor  lunch,  being  upset  by  this  scene. 
This  time  she  would  have  to  satisfy  the  man.  On  ten  different 
occasions  at  least,  she  had  put  the  money  for  him  on  one  side; 
but  somehow  or  other  it  had  always  dribbled  away  —  one  day  for 
flowers,  or  another  day  for  a  subscription  for  an  old  gendarme. 
She  was,  however,  counting  on  Philippe,  and  was  even  surprised 
that  he  had  not  already  been  with  his  two  hundred  francs.  It 
was  awful  ill-luck.  Two  days  before  she  had  again  rigged  out 
Satin,  a  regular  trousseau,  spending  nearly  twelve  hundred  francs 
in  dresses  and  underclothing,  and  she  had  not  a  louis  left. 

Towards  two  o'clock,  as  Nana  was  beginning  to  be  anxious, 
Labordette  called.  He  brought  the  designs  for  the  bedstead. 
It  was  a  diversion,  and  produced  a  fit  of  joy  which  caused  the 
young  woman  to  forget  everything  else.  She  clapped  her  hands, 
she  danced;  then,  brimful  of  curiosity,  leaning  over  a  table  in 
the  parlour,  she  examined  the  drawings,  which  Labordette  ex- 
plained to  her. 

"You  see,  this  is  the  boat;  in  the  centre  a  bunch  of  full-blown 
roses,  then  a  garland  of  flowers  and  buds;  the  leaves  will  be  in 
green  gold  and  the  roses  in  red  gold.  And  this  is  the  great  design 
for  the  head  —  a  troop  of  cupids  dancing  in  a  circle  against  a 
silver  trellis." 

But  Nana  interrupted  him,  carried  away  by  rapture. 

"Oh!  isn't  he  funny,  the  little  one,  the  one  in  the  corner,  turn- 
ing a  somersault?  And  look  at  his  saucy  laugh!  They've  all 
got  such  wicked  eyes!  I  say,  my  boy,  I  shall  have  to  be  careful 
of  what  I  do  before  them!" 

She  was  in  an  extraordinary  state  of  satisfied  pride.  The  gold- 
smiths had  said  that  no  queen  ever  slept  on  such  a  bedstead. 
Only  there  was  a  slight  complication.  Labordette  showed  her 

£3613 


NANA 

two  designs  for  the  piece  at  the  foot,  the  one  which  reproduced 
the  subject  of  the  boat  and  cupids,  the  other  which  was  altogether 
a  new  design  —  a  female  figure  representing  Night  enveloped  in 
her  veil,  which  a  faun  was  drawing  aside,  displaying  her  radiant 
nudity.  He  added  that  if  she  selected  this  second  design,  the 
goldsmiths  intended  to  make  the  figure  representing  Night  like 
her.  This  idea,  which  was  in  questionable  taste,  made  her  turn 
pale  with  pleasure.  She  saw  herself  as  a  little  silver  statue,  the 
symbol  of  the  tepid,  voluptuous  pleasures  of  darkness, 

"Of  course,  you  will  only  sit  for  the  head  and  shoulders,"  said 
Labordette. 

"Why!"  asked  she,  coolly  looking  him  in  the  face.  "As  rt 
is  a  question  of  a  work  of  art,  I  sha'n't  care  a  fig  for  the  sculptor 
who  copies  me!" 

So  it  was  settled.  She  chose  the  second  subject  also;  but  he 
stopped  her. 

"Wait.    It  will  cost  six  thousand  francs  more." 

"Well!  that's  all  the  same  to  me!"  cried  she,  bursting  out 
laughing.  "My  little  muff  will  pay!" 

It  was  thus  she  called  Count  Muffat  now  amongst  her  intimate 
acquaintances;  and  the  gentlemen  never  asked  after  him  other- 
wise than  as,  "Did  you  see  your  little  muff  last  night?  Ah!  I 
thought  I  should  have  found  the  little  muff  here!"  A  simple 
familiarity  which,  however,  she  did  not  as  yet  allow  herself  to 
make  use  of  in  his  presence. 

Labordette  rolled  up  the  drawings  as  he  gave  her  some  final 
information:  the  goldsmiths  engaged  to  deliver  the  bedstead  in 
two  months'  time,  towards  the  25th  December;  the  very  next 
week  a  sculptor  would  come  to  make  the  rough  model  for  the 
figure  of  Night.  As  she  walked  with  him  to  the  stairs,  Nana 
remembered  the  baker,  and  said  suddenly, 

"By  the  way,  do  you  happen  to  have  ten  louis  about 
you?"  ' 

One  of  Labordette's  principles,  and  which  he  found  invaluable, 
was  never  to  lend  money  to  women.  He  always  gave  the  same 
answer, 

"No,  my  girl;  I'm  quite  stumped.  But  would  you  like  me 
to  call  on  your  little  muff?" 

She  refused;  it  was  useless.  Two  days  before  she  had  got 
five  thousand  francs  out  of  the  count.  Following  Labordette, 


NANA 

though  it  was  scarcely  half-past  two  when  he  called,  the  baker 
reappeared;  and  he  roughly  seated  himself  on  a  bench  in  the 
hall,  swearing  very  loud.  The  young  woman  was  listening  to 
him  up  on  the  first  floor.  She  turned  pale;  she  suffered  especially 
at  hearing  up  there  the  secret  joy  of  the  servants.  They  were 
splitting  their  sides  with  laughing  in  the  kitchen.  The  coachman 
looked  on  from  the  yard;  Franfois  passed  across  the  hall  without 
any  necessity,  and  then  went  and  told  the  others  how  things  were 
progressing,  after  bestowing  a  chuckle  of  intelligence  on  the  baker. 
They  did  not  care  a  straw  for  madame;  the  walls  seemed  bursting 
with  the  sounds  of  their  mirth.  She  felt  herself  all  alone,  despised 
by  her  servants,  who  spied  on  her  and  bespattered  her  with  their 
filthy  jokes.  Then  as  she  had  had  an  idea  of  borrowing  the 
hundred  and  thirty-three  francs  from  Zoe,  she  gave  it  up.  She 
already  owed  her  some  money;  she  was  too  proud  to  risk  a  re- 
fusal. So  strong  an  emotion  possessed  her  that  she  returned  to 
her  bed-room,  saying  aloud, 

"Never  mind,  my  girl;  only  depend  upon  yourself.  Your 
body's  your  own,  and  it's  best  to  make  use  of  it  rather  than  to 
submit  to  an  insult." 

And  without  even  ringing  for  Zoe,  she  hastily  dressed  herself 
to  go  to  old  Tricon's.  It  was  her  supreme  resource  in  the  hours 
of  great  distress.  Very  much  asked  for,  always  required  by  the 
old  woman,  she  refused  or  accepted,  according  to  her  wants; 
and  the  days,  which  were  becoming  more  and  more  frequent, 
when  she  suffered  from  any  embarrassment  in  her  royal  career, 
she  was  always  sure  of  finding  twenty-five  louis  awaiting  her 
there.  She  would  go  to  old  Tricon's  in  the  easy  style  gained  by 
habit,  the  same  as  poor  people  go  to  the  pawn-shop. 

But  on  leaving  her  bed-room,  she  ran  up  against  George, 
standing  in  the  middle  of  the  parlour.  She  did  not  notice  his 
wax-like  paleness,  the  dull  light  in  his  wide  open  eyes.  She 
uttered  a  sigh  of  relief. 

"Ah!  you've  come  from  your  brother?" 

"No,"  said  the  youngster,  turning  paler  still. 

Then  she  made  a  gesture  of  despair.  What  did  he  want?  Why 
was  he  standing  in  front  of  her?  Come,  she  was  in  a  hurry; 
and  she  passed  him.  Then  retracing  her  steps,  she  asked, 

"Have  you  any  money  with  you?" 

"No." 

C363] 


NANA 

"It's  true  —  how  stupid  of  me!  Never  a  thing,  not  even  the 
six  sous  for  their  omnibus.  Mamma  won't.  What  men!" 

And  she  was  hurrying  off;  but  he  stopped  her.  He  wished  to 
speak  to  her.  She,  excited,  kept  saying  that  she  had  not  time, 
when  with  a  word  he  made  her  leave  off. 

"Listen,  I  know  you  are  going  to  marry  my  brother." 

Well,  that  was  comic.  She  dropped  into  a  chair  to  laugh  at 
her  ease. 

"Yes,"  continued  the  youngster;  "and  I  will  not  have  it. 
It  is  I  whom  you  must  marry.  That  is  why  I  have  come." 

"Eh,  what?  you  also?"  she  exclaimed.  "Is  it  then  a  family 
complaint?  But,  never!  What  an  idea!  Did  I  ever  ask  you 
to  do  such  a  disgraceful  thing?  Neither  the  one  nor  the  other 
—  never!" 

Then  George's  face  brightened  up.  He  might  by  chance  have 
been  mistaken.  He  resumed,  "Then  swear  to  me  that  you  are 
not  my  brother's  mistress." 

"Ah!  you're  becoming  a  confounded  nuisance!"  said  Nana, 
rising  to  her  feet,  impatient  to  be  off.  "  It's  funny  for  a  minute, 
but  I  tell  you  I'm  in  a  hurry!  I'm  your  brother's  mistress  when 
I  choose  to  be.  Do  you  keep  me  —  do  you  pay  here,  that  you 
come  and  call  me  to  account?  Yes,  I'm  your  brother's  mistress." 

He  had  seized  her  arm,  and  squeezed  it  almost  enough  to  break 
it,  as  he  stammered  out,  "Don't  say  that  —  don't  say  that  — " 

With  a  slap  she  freed  herself. 

"He's  whipping  me  now!  the  young  monkey!  My  little  fellow, 
you  must  be  off,  and  at  once  too.  I've  let  you  be  here  through 
kindness.  It's  just  so,  however  wide  you  may  open  your  eyes! 
You  didn't  expect,  I  suppose,  to  have  me  for  your  mamma  until 
the  day  of  my  death.  I've  something  better  to  do  than  to  nurse 
brats." 

He  listened  to  her  in  an  agony  which  stiffened  his  limbs  and 
left  him  powerless.  Each  word  stabbed  him  to  the  heart,  with  a 
blow  so  hard  that  he  felt  it  was  killing  him.  She,  not  even  notic- 
ing his  suffering,  continued,  happy  at  being  able  to  vent  herself 
on  him  for  all  her  worries  of  the  morning. 

"It's  just  the  same  with  your  brother;  he's  a  nice  one,  he  is! 
He  promised  me  two  hundred  francs.  Ah,  well!  I  may  wait  for 
ever  for  him.  It's  not  that  I  care  about  his  money !  Not  enough 
to  pay  for  my  pomades.  But  he's  left  me  in  a  fix!  Now  would 

£364:1 


NANA 

you  like  to  know?  Well,  through  your  brother's  fault,  I'm  going 
out  to  earn  twenty-five  louis  from  another  man." 

Then,  in  a  state  of  bewilderment,  he  stood  before  the  door; 
and  he  cried,  and  implored,  clasping  his  hands  together,  and 
muttering,  "Oh,  no!  oh,  no!" 

"Well,  I'm  willing,"  said  she.     "Have  you  the  money?" 

No,  he  had  not  got  the  money.  He  would  have  given  his 
life  to  have  had  it.  Never  before  had  he  felt  so  miserable,  so  use- 
less, such  a  child.  All  his  poor  body,  shaken  with  sobs,  expressed 
a  grief  so  great  that  she  ended  by  seeing  it  and  feeling  for  him. 
She  pushed  him  gently  on  one  side. 

"Come,  ducky,  let  me  pass;  you  must.  Be  reasonable.  You're 
a  baby,  and  it  was  all  very  nice  for  a  week;  but  to-day  I  must 
attend  to  my  affairs.  Think  it  over  now.  Your  brother,  too,  is 
a  man.  I  don't  say  with  him  —  Ah!  do  me  a  kindness;  don't 
mention  to  him  anything  of  all  this.  He  has  no  need  to  know 
where  I'm  going.  I  always  say  too  much  when  I'm  angry." 

She  laughed.  Then,  putting  her  arms  round  him  and  kissing 
him  on  the  forehead,  she  added, 

"Good-bye,  baby;  it's  over,  all  over,  you  understand.  Now, 
I'm  off." 

And  she  left  him.  He  was  standing  in  the  centre  of  the  par- 
lour. The  last  words  sounded  like  a  knell  in  his  ears,  "It  is 
over,  all  over";  and  the  ground  seemed  to  open  beneath  his 
feet.  In  the  vacuum  of  his  brain,  the  man  who  was  awaiting  Nana 
had  disappeared;  Philippe  alone  remained,  continually  in  the 
woman's  bare  arms.  She  did  not  deny  it;  she  certainly  loved 
him,  as  she  wished  to  spare  him  the  grief  of  knowing  her  to  be 
unfaithful.  It  was  over,  all  over.  He  drew  a  long  breath,  he 
gazed  around  the  room,  choked  by  a  weight  that  was  crushing 
him.  Recollections  returned  to  him  one  by  one  —  the  merry 
nights  at  La  Mignotte,  hours  of  love  during  which  he  thought 
himself  her  child,  then  voluptuous  pleasures  snatched  in  that 
very  room.  And  never,  nevei1  more!  He  was  too  little,  he  had 
not  grown  quick  enough;  Philippe  had  taken  his  place,  because 
he  had  a  beard.  So,  it  was  the  end,  he  could  no  longer  live. 
His  vice  had  become  full  of  an  infinite  tenderness,  of  a  sensual 
adoration,  in  which  his  whole  being  was  centred.  Then,  how 
could  he  forget,  when  his  brother  would  remain  there  —  his 
brother,  who  was  of  the  same  blood,  another  self  whose  pleas- 

1:365  3 


NANA 

ure  drove  him  mad  with  jealousy?  It  was  the  end,  he  wished 
to  die. 

All  the  doors  were  left  open  as  the  servants  noisily  scuttled 
about,  they  having  seen  madame  go  out  on  foot.  Downstairs, 
on  the  bench  in  the  hall,  the  baker  was  laughing  with  Charles 
and  Fran£ois.  As  Zoe  crossed  the  parlour  at  a  run,  she  appeared 
surprised  at  seeing  George,  and  asked  him  if  he  was  waiting  for 
madame.  Yes,  he  was  waiting  for  her,  he  had  forgotten  to  tell 
her  something.  And,  when  he  was  again  alone,  he  ferreted 
about.  Finding  nothing  better,  he  took  from  the  dressing-room 
a  pair  of  sharply  pointed  scissors,  which  Nana  was  continually 
using,  cutting  her  hangnails  and  little  hairs  with  them. 

Then,  for  an  hour,  he  waited  patiently,  his  hand  in  his  pocket, 
his  fingers  nervously  clutching  the  scissors. 

"Here's  madame/'  said  Zoe,  coming  back;  she  had  probably 
been  watching  for  her  out  of  the  bed-room  window. 

More  scuttling  about  was  heard  in  the  house,  and  sounds  of 
laughter  died  away  as  doors  were  closed.  George  heard  Nana 
pay  the  baker  and  utter  a  few  brief  words.  Then  she  came  up 
the  stairs. 

"What!  you're  still  here!"  said  she,  as  she  caught  sight  of  him. 
"Ah!  we  shall  have  a  row,  my  little  man!" 

He  followed  her  whilst  she  moved  towards  the  bed-room. 

"Nana,  will  you  marry  me?" 

But  she  shrugged  her  shoulders.  It  was  too  absurd,  she  did 
not  answer.  Her  idea  was  to  bang  the  door  in  his  face. 

"Nana,  will  you  marry  me?" 

She  slammed  the  door.  With  one  hand  he  opened  it,  whilst 
he  withdrew  the  other  hand  holding  the  scissors  from  his  pocket. 
And,  simply,  with  one  violent  blow,  he  thrust  them  into  his  chest. 

Nana,  however,  had  had  a  feeling  that  something  terrible  was 
going  to  happen.  She  turned  round.  When  she  saw  him  strike 
himself,  she  was  seized  with  indignation. 

"But  he's  cracked!  he's  cracked!  And  with  my  scissors  too! 
Will  you  leave  off,  you  wicked  child!  Ah!  good  heavens!  — ah! 
good  heavens!" 

She  was  seized  with  fear.  The  youngster,  fallen  on  his  knees, 
had  struck  himself  a  second  blow,  which  had  laid  him  flat  on 
the  carpet.  He  blocked  the  threshold  of  the  bed-room.  Then 
she  became  quite  bewildered;  she  shouted  with  all  her  might, 


NANA 

not  daring  to  step  over  that  body,  which  shut  her  in  and  pre- 
vented her  running  for  help. 

"Zoe!  Zoe!  come  quick.  Make  him  leave  off.  It's  absurd,  a 
child  like  that!  He's  killing  himself  now!  and  in  my  house,  too! 
Did  anyone  ever  see  such  a  thing?" 

He  frightened  her.  He  was  all  white,  and  his  eyes  were  closed. 
The  wound  scarcely  bled  at  all,  there  was  only  a  little  blood 
which  trickled  from  under  the  waistcoat.  She  had  nerved  her- 
self to  pass  over  the  body,  when  an  apparition  caused  her  to  draw 
back.  Opposite  to  her,  by  the  open  door  of  the  parlour,  she  be- 
held an  old  lady  advancing,  and  she  recognised  Madame  Hugon, 
terrified,  unable  to  account  for  her  presence.  She  continued  to  step 
back;  she  still  wore  her  bonnet  and  gloves.  Her  terror  became 
such  that  she  attempted  to  defend  herself  in  a  hesitating  voice. 

"Madame,  it  was  not  I,  I  swear  to  you.  He  wanted  to  marry 
me,  I  said  'no,'  and  he's  killed  himself." 

Madame  Hugon  slowly  approached,  dressed  in  black,  with  her 
pale  face  and  white  hair.  In  the  carriage  the  thought  of  George 
had  left  her,  and  Philippe's  sin  had  alone  occupied  her  mind. 
Perhaps  that  woman  could  give  some  explanations  to  the  judges 
which  might  cause  them  to  be  more  lenient;  and  her  intention 
was  to  implore  her  to  bear  witness  in  her  son's  favour.  Down- 
stairs the  doors  of  the  mansion  were  wide  open.  She  hesitated 
at  the  staircase,  with  her  poor  legs,  when,  suddenly,  shouts  of 
fear  had  directed  her  steps.  Then,  upstairs,  she  beheld  a  man 
lying  on  the  floor,  his  shirt  stained  with  blood.  It  was  George 
—  it  was  her  other  child. 

Nana  kept  repeating,  in  an  idiotic  way:  "He  wanted  to  marry 
me.  I  said  'no,'  and  he's  killed  himself." 

Without  a  cry,  Madame  Hugon  stooped  down.  Yes,  it  was 
the  other  one,  it  was  George.  The  one  dishonoured,  the  other 
dead.  It  did  not  surprise  her,  in  the  downfall  of  her  whole  exist- 
ence. Kneeling  on  the  carpet,  ignoring  the  place  where  she  was, 
noticing  no  one,  she  looked  fixedly  in  George's  face,  she  listened 
with  a  hand  upon  his  heart.  Suddenly  she  uttered  a  faint  sigh. 
She  had  felt  his  heart  beat.  Then  she  raised  her  head,  examined 
the  room  and  the  woman,  and  seemed  to  recollect.  A  fire  lighted 
up  her  vacant  eyes.  She  was  so  grand  and  so  terrible  that  Nana 
trembled  as  she  continued  to  defend  herself,  over  that  corpse 
which  separated  them. 

C3673 


NANA 

"  I  swear  to  you,  madame  —  if  his  brother  was  here,  he  could 
explain." 

"His  brother  is  a  thief,  he  is  in  prison,"  said  the  mother 
harshly. 

Nana  remained  transfixed,  gasping  for  breath.  But  why  all 
that?  The  other  had  robbed  —  they  were  mad  then,  in  that 
family!  She  ceased  struggling,  no  longer  seeming  to  be  in  her 
own  house,  but  leaving  Madame  Hugon  to  give  her  own  orders. 
Some  of  the  servants  had  at  last  hastened  to  the  spot;  the  old 
lady  insisted  on  having  George,  insensible  as  he  was,  taken  to  her 
carriage.  She  would  remove  him  from  that  house,  though  it  killed 
him.  Nana,  with  a  stupefied  gaze,  watched  the  servants  carry- 
ing that  poor  Zizi  by  his  legs  and  shoulders.  The  mother 
followed  behind,  quite  exhausted  now,  leaning  on  the  furniture, 
as  though  sunk  into  the  nothingness  of  all  she  loved.  On  the 
landing  she  sighed  and  turning  round,  said  twice, 

"Ah!  you  have  done  us  much  harm!  You  have  done  us  much 
harm!" 

That  was  all.  Nana  seated  herself,  in  her  stupor,  with  her 
gloves  still  on  her  hands,  and  her  bonnet  on  her  head.  The  house 
relapsed  into  a  dull  silence,  the  carriage  had  just  gone  off;  and  she 
remained  immovable,  without  an  idea,  her  head  all  buzzing  with 
what  had  just  transpired.  A  quarter  of  an  hour  later,  Count  Muffat 
found  her  in  the  same  place.  But  then  she  eased  herself  with  a 
great  flow  of  words,  telling  him  of  the  misfortune,  repeating  twenty 
times  the  same  details,  picking  up  the  scissors  smeared  with 
blood,  to  imitate  Zizi's  gesture  when  he  stabbed  himself.  And 
she  seemed  especially  anxious  to  prove  her  innocence. 

"Come  now,  darling,  was  it  my  fault?  If  you  were  Justice, 
would  you  condemn  me?  I  never  told  Philippe  to  steal,  that's 
very  certain,  any  more  than  I  drove  this  poor  fellow  to  kill  himself. 
In  all  this,  I'm  the  most  miserable.  They  come  and  make  fools 
of  themselves  here;  they  cause  me  a  great  deal  of  pain;  I'm  treated 
like  a  wretch  of  a  woman." 

And  she  burst  out  crying.  Her  nerves  were  highly  unstrung, 
which  rendered  her  weak  and  doleful,  and  deeply  moved  with 
an  immense  sorrow. 

"You,  too,  you  don't  seem  very  pleased.  Ask  Zoe,  now,  if 
I'm  at  all  to  blame.  Zoe,  speak;  explain  to  the  count  — " 

For  some  few  minutes  the  maid,  having  fetched  from  the  dress- 

C3683 


NANA 

ing-room  a  towel  and  a  basin  of  water,  had  been  rubbing  the  carpet 
to  get  rid  of  a  stain  of  blood,  whilst  it  was  still  wet. 

"Oh,  sir!"  she  declared;    "madame  is  quite  broken-hearted!" 

Muffat  was  greatly  affected,  feeling  stunned  by  the  drama,  his 
thoughts  full  of  that  mother  weeping  for  her  two  children.  He 
knew  her  great  heart;  he  saw  her  in  her  widow's  weeds,  pining 
away  all  alone  at  Les  Fondettes.  But  Nana's  despair  increased. 
Now,  the  picture  of  Zizi,  lying  on  the  floor,  with  a  red  spot  on 
his  shirt,  put  her  quite  beside  herself. 

"He  was  so  pretty,  so  gentle,  so  caressing!  Ah!  you  know, 
ducky,  it's  so  much  the  worse  if  you  don't  like  it.  I  loved  him, 
the  baby!  I  can't  control  myself;  it's  stronger  than  I  am.  And 
then  it  can't  matter  to  you  now.  He  is  no  longer  here.  You  have 
what  you  wanted;  you  may  be  quite  sure  of  never  catching  us 
together  again." 

This  last  idea  overwhelmed  him  with  such  regret  that  he  ended 
by  trying  to  console  her.  She  must  bear  up.  She  was  right; 
it  was  not  her  fault.  But  she  stopped  him  to  say, 

"Listen,  you  must  run  and  bring  me  news  of  him.  At  once! 
I  insist!" 

He  took  his  hat  and  went  off  to  obtain  news  of  George.  When 
he  returned,  at  the  end  of  three  quarters  of  an  hour,  he  beheld 
Nana  leaning  out  of  the  window  anxiously  awaiting  him;  and 
he  called  to  her  from  the  pavement  that  the  little  fellow  was 
not  dead,  and  that  they  even  hoped  to  save  his  life.  Then  she 
changed  at  once  to  a  great  joy.  She  sang,  danced,  and  thought 
life  beautiful.  Zoe,  however,  was  not  satisfied  with  her  cleansing. 
She  kept  looking  at  the  stain,  and  saying  each  time  she  passed, 

"You  know,  madame,  it  hasn't  gone  away." 

And  in  fact,  as  it  dried,  the  stain  appeared  a  pale  red  on 
one  of  the  white  ornaments  of  the  carpet.  It  was  on  the  very 
threshold  of  the  room,  like  a  line  of  blood  barring  the  way. 

"Bah!"  said  Nana,  happy  once  more,  "the  footsteps  will  wear 
it  away." 

By  the  morrow  Count  MufFat  had  also  forgotten  the  incident. 
When  in  the  cab  on  the  way  to  the  Rue  Richelieu,  he  had  sworn 
never  to  return  to  that  woman.  Heaven  gave  him  a  warning. 
He  looked  on  Philippe's  and  George's  calamity  as  foreboding  his 
own  ruin.  But  neither  the  spectacle  of  Madame  Hugon  in  tears, 
nor  the  sight  of  the  youth  consumed  with  fever,  had  had  the  power 

£369:1 


NANA 

to  make  him  keep  his  oath;  and  from  the  short  moment  of  emotion 
caused  by  the  drama,  all  that  remained  to  him  was  the  secret  joy 
of  being  rid  of  a  rival,  whose  charming  youth  had  always  exas- 
perated him.  He  now  experienced  an  exclusive  passion,  one  of 
those  passions  of  men  who  have  had  no  youth.  He  loved  Nana 
with  a  necessity  always  to  know  that  she  was  his  alone  —  to 
hear  her,  to  touch  her,  to  be  under  the  influence  of  her  breath. 
It  was  an  attachment  which  had  got  beyond  the  mere  gratification 
of  his  senses,  and  had  reached  the  purer  feeling  —  an  anxious 
affection,  jealous  of  the  past,  dreaming  at  times  of  redemption, 
of  pardon  bestowed,  both  of  them  kneeling  before  God  the  Father. 
Each  day  religion  regained  some  of  its  ascendency  over  him.  He 
again  practised  going  to  confession  and  communicating,  strug- 
gling unceasingly,  mingling  his  remorse  with  the  joys  of  sin  and 
of  penitence.  Then,  his  spiritual  director  having  permitted  him 
to  wear  out  his  passion,  he  had  made  a  habit  of  that  daily  dam- 
nation, which  he  redeemed  by  bursts  of  faith,  full  of  a  devout 
humility.  He  very  naively  offered  to  heaven,  as  an  expiatory 
suffering,  the  abominable  torment  he  endured.  This  torment 
continued  to  increase.  It  raised  his  calvary  of  a  believer,  of  a 
grave  and  profound  heart,  fallen  into  the  mad  sensuality  of  a 
courtesan.  What  caused  him  the  most  agony  were  the  continual 
infidelities  of  that  woman,  for  he  could  not  accustom  himself  to 
share  with  others,  failing  to  understand  her  stupid  infatuations. 
He  longed  for  an  eternal  love,  ever  the  same.  Yet,  she  had  sworn 
to  be  faithful,  and  he  paid  her  for  that;  but  he  felt  that  she  lied, 
unable  to  guard  herself,  giving  herself  to  her  friends  and  the  passers- 
by,  like  some  good  animal  born  to  live  in  a  state  of  nakedness. 

One  morning  that  he  observed  Foucarmont  leaving  her  house 
at  a  rather  peculiar  hour,  he  sought  an  explanation.  She  at 
once  flew  into  a  passion,  tired  of  his  jealousy.  She  had  already, 
on  several  occasions,  been  very  nice.  For  instance,  the  night 
when  he  had  caught  her  with  George  she  had  been  the  first  to 
make  it  up,  admitting  her  fault,  loading  him  with  caresses  and 
pretty  words,  to  help  him  get  over  it;  but  at  length  he  bored 
her  with  his  obstinacy  in  not  understanding  women,  and  she 
roughly  said, 

"Well!  yes,  I've  been  Foucarmont's  mistress.  What  next?  Eh! 
that  puts  your  hair  out  of  curl,  my  little  muff!" 

It  was  the  first  time  she  called  him  "little  muff"  to  his  face. 

C370] 


NANA 

He  remained  bursting  with  rage  at  the  brazenness  of  her  avowal; 
and,  as  he  clinched  his  fists,  she  walked  towards  him,  and  looked 
him  straight  in  the  face. 

"Now,  that's  enough,  do  you  hear?  If  it  doesn't  please  you, 
just  oblige  me  by  going  off.  I  won't  have  you  kicking  up  a  row 
in  my  house.  Understand  that  I  intend  to  be  free  to  do  as  I 
like.  When  a  man  pleases  me,  I'll  have  him  here.  Exactly, 
that's  what  I  mean.  And  you  must  make  up  your  mind  at  once: 
yes  or  no,  the  door  is  open." 

She  had  gone  and  opened  the  door.  He  did  not  go.  So  now 
it  became  her  way  of  attaching  him  to  her  all  the  more;  for  noth- 
ing at  all,  at  the  least  quarrel,  she  gave  him  his  choice,  accompanied 
by  some  of  the  most  abominable  reflections.  Ah,  well!  she  would 
always  be  able  to  find  some  one  better  than  he,  she  had  only  too 
many  people  to  choose  from;  one  could  pick  up  men  outside,  as 
many  as  one  wanted,  and  fellows  who  were  not  such  ninnies  as 
he,  whose  blood  boiled  in  their  veins.  He  bowed  his  head,  he 
waited  for  better  times,  when  she  would  be  in  want  of  money; 
then  she  became  caressing,  and  he  forgot  everything  —  a  night 
of  love  compensated  for  the  tortures  of  a  week.  His  reconciliation 
with  his  wife  had  made  his  home  unbearable.  The  countess,  cast 
off  by  Fauchery,  who  was  once  more  completely  under  Rose's 
influence,  sought  forgetfulness  in  other  amours,  in  the  attack  of 
the  feverish  anxiety  of  her  forty  years,  ever  nervous,  and  filling 
the  house  with  the  exasperating  commotion  of  her  mode  of  living. 
Since  her  marriage,  Estelle  no  longer  saw  her  father.  This  skinny 
and  insignificant  looking  girl  had  suddenly  developed  into  a  woman 
with  an  iron  will  so  absolute  that  Daguenet  trembled  before  her; 
now  he  accompanied  her  to  church,  converted,  and  furious  with 
his  father-in-law,  who  was  ruining  them  with  an  abandoned  female. 
M.  Venot  alone  remained  affectionate  towards  the  count,  whilst 
biding  his  time.  He  had  even  succeeded  in  gaining  access  to 
Nana;  he  frequented  the  two  houses,  where  one  often  came  across 
his  continual  smile  behind  the  doors.  And  Muffat,  miserable  in 
his  own  home,  driven  from  thence  by  dulness  and  shame,  pre- 
ferred rather  to  live  amidst  the  insults  of  the  Avenue  de  Villiers. 

Soon,  only  one  question  remained  between  Nana  and  the 
count;  that  of  money.  One  day,  after  formally  promising  to  bring 
ten  thousand  francs,  he  had  dared  to  present  himself  at  the 
appointed  time  empty-handed.  For  the  previous  two  days,  she 


NANA 

had  been  exciting  him  with  endless  caresses.  Such  a  breaking 
of  his  word,  so  many  endearing  little  ways  wasted,  threw  her  into 
an  abusive  rage.  She  became  quite  white. 

"Eh!  you've  no  money?  Then,  my  little  muff,  return  to  whence 
you  came,  and  quicker  than  that  too!  What  a  sordid  wretch! 
and  he  was  going  to  kiss  me!  No  money,  no  anything!  you  under- 
stand!" 

He  entered  into  some  explanations.  He  would  have  the  money 
the  day  after  the  morrow.  But  she  interrupted  him  violently. 

"And  my  bills  that  are  coming  due!  They'll  seize  my  goods, 
whilst  his  lordship  comes  here  on  tick.  Now,  just  look  at  your- 
self! Do  you  think  I  love  you  for  yourself?  When  one  has  a 
mug  like  yours,  one  pays  the  women  who  are  willing  to  put  up 
with  you.  Damnation!  if  you  don't  bring  me  the  ten  thousand 
francs  to-night,  you  sha'n't  even  so  much  as  suck  the  tip  of  my 
little  finger.  Really!  I  must  send  you  back  to  your  wife!" 

That  night  he  brought  the  ten  thousand  francs.  Nana  held 
out  her  lips.  He  took  a  long  kiss,  which  consoled  him  for  all 
his  day  of  agony.  What  annoyed  the  young  woman  was  always 
having  him  attached  to  her  skirts.  She  complained  to  M.  Venot, 
imploring  him  to  take  her  little  muff  to  the  countess.  Their 
reconciliation  did  not  appear  to  have  been  of  much  use  and  she 
regretted  having  had  anything  to  do  with  it,  as  he  was  for  ever 
at  her  back.  The  days  when,  blinded  by  anger,  she  forgot  her 
interests,  she  swore  to  play  him  such  a  dirty  trick  that  he 
would  never  again  be  able  to  come  near  her.  But  while  she 
blackguarded  him,  slapping  her  thighs  meanwhile  —  she  might 
even  have  spat  in  his  face  —  he  would  have  remained  and  thanked 
her.  Then  they  had  continual  quarrels  about  money.  She 
roughly  demanded  it.  She  abused  him  in  regard  to  the  most 
miserable  sums,  odiously  greedy  every  minute,  delighting  in 
cruelly  telling  him  that  she  only  tolerated  him  for  his  money 
and  for  nothing  else,  that  she  didn't  care  for  him,  that  she  loved 
another,  and  that  she  was  very  unfortunate  in  having  to  do  with 
such  an  idiot  as  he!  They  did  not  even  want  to  have  him  any 
longer  at  court,  where  there  was  a  talk  of  requesting  him  to  send 
in  his  resignation.  The  Empress  had  said,  "He  is  too  disgusting." 
That  was  very  true.  And  Nana  always  repeated  the  words  as  a 
parting  shot  in  their  quarrels. 

"Really!  you  are  too  disgusting!" 

C3723 


NANA 

She  no  longer  put  the  least  constraint  upon  herself  now,  she 
had  regained  complete  liberty.  Every  day  she  took  her  drive 
in  the  Bois  round  the  lake,  forming  acquaintances  there  which 
became  more  intimate  elsewhere.  It  was  the  great  angling  match 
for  men,  the  baiting  in  the  full  light  of  day,  the  hooking  by  illus- 
trious harlots,  beneath  the  smile  of  toleration  and  the  dazzling 
luxury  of  Paris.  Duchesses  drew  each  other's  attention  to  her, 
the  wives  of  wealthy  tradesmen  copied  her  bonnets;  at  times  her 
landau,  when  striving  to  pass,  would  arrest  a  long  string  of  grand 
equipages,  containing  financiers  holding  all  Europe  in  their  cash- 
boxes,  and  ministers  whose  big  fingers  were  half  throttling  France; 
and  she  formed  a  part  of  this  world  of  the  Bois.  She  occupied  an 
important  position  there,  known  by  the  people  of  every  capital, 
greatly  in  demand  with  all  foreigners,  adding  the  mad  fit  of  her 
debauchery  to  the  splendours  of  that  crowd  like  the  very  glory 
and  keen  enjoyment  of  a  nation.  Then  the  intimacies  of  a  night 
—  mere  birds  of  passage,  of  which  she  herself  lost  all  recollection 
on  the  morrow  —  would  take  her  to  the  grand  restaurants,  often 
to  the  Cafe  de  Madrid,  when  the  weather  was  fine.  All  the  staff 
of  the  embassies  defiled  there;  she  dined  with  Lucy  Stewart, 
who  murdered  the  French  language,  and  who  paid  to  be  amused, 
taking  the  girls  at  so  much  an  evening,  with  instructions  to  them 
to  be  funny,  while  they  themselves  were  so  sick  of  everything  and 
so  worn  out  that  they  never  even  touched  them.  And  the  girls 
called  it  going  on  the  spree.  They  returned  home  delighted  at 
having  been  treated  with  such  disdain,  and  finished  the  night  with 
some  lover  of  their  choice. 

Count  Muffat  pretended  to  be  ignorant  of  these  goings  on, 
when  Nana  did  not  tell  him  of  them  herself.  He  suffered,  too, 
a  great  deal  from  the  disgraces  of  his  daily  existence.  The  mansion 
in  the  Avenue  de  Villiers  was  becoming  a  regular  hell,  a  mad- 
house in  which  sudden  crazes  at  all  hours  of  the  day  led  to  the  most 
odious  scenes.  Nana  had  arrived  at  the  point  of  battling  with  her 
servants.  At  one  time  she  was  especially  good  to  Charles,  the 
coachman.  Whenever  she  stopped  at  a  restaurant,  she  sent  him 
out  refreshments  by  the  waiters;  she  would  talk  to  him  from  inside 
her  landau,  highly  amused,  thinking  him  very  funny  as  he  roundly 
abused  the  other  drivers  whenever  there  was  a  block  in  the  street. 
Then,  without  rhyme  or  reason,  she  completely  changed  and  treated 
him  as  a  fool.  She  was  always  wrangling  about  the  straw,  the 

C373  3 


NANA 

bran,  and  the  oats;  in  spite  of  her  love  for  animals,  she  con- 
sidered that  her  horses  ate  too  much.  So  at  length,  one  settling 
day,  as  she  accused  him  of  robbing  her,  Charles  flew  into  a  pas- 
sion, and  bluntly  called  her  a  strumpet;  her  horses,  anyhow, 
were  worth  more  than  she,  they  did  not  let  everyone  muck  them 
about.  She  retorted  in  a  similar  style,  and  the  count  was  obliged 
to  separate  them  and  turn  the  coachman  off  the  premises. 

But  this  was  only  the  beginning  of  a  general  stampede  of  the 
servants.  Victorine  and  Francois  went  off,  after  the  discovery 
of  a  robbery  of  diamonds.  Even  Julien  disappeared,  and  a  story 
was  circulated  that  the  count  had  implored  him  to  go,  giving  him 
at  the  same  time  a  large  sum  of  money,  because  madame  had  taken 
a  great  fancy  to  him.  Every  week  fresh  faces  were  seen  in  the 
servants'  hall.  Never  had  there  been  such  waste;  the  house  was 
like  a  passage  through  which  the  scum  of  the  servants'  registry- 
offices  defiled  in  a  massacring  gallop.  Zoe  alone  kept  her  place, 
with  her  neat  look  and  her  only  anxiety  of  organising  the  dis- 
order, so  long  as  she  had  not  saved  sufficient  to  settle  down  on  her 
own  account,  a  plan  which  she  had  been  working  at  for  a  long 
time  past. 

And  yet  those  were  only  the  avowable  cares.  The  count  bore 
with  Madame  Maloir's  stupidity,  playing  at  bezique  with  her,  in 
spite  of  her  rank  odour.  He  put  up  with  Madame  Lerat  and 
her  cackling,  and  with  little  Louis  and  his  doleful  complaints  of 
a  child  devoured  by  disease  —  some  putrefaction  bequeathed  by 
an  unknown  father.  But  he  had  to  endure  other  things  far 
worse.  One  night,  behind  a  door,  he  had  heard  Nana  furiously 
telling  her  maid  that  a  pretended  rich  man  had  just  taken  her  in. 
Yes,  a  handsome  fellow,  who  said  he  was  American,  and  owned 
gold  mines  in  his  own  country  —  a  mean  vagabond  who  had  gone 
off  whilst  she  was  asleep,  without  leaving  a  sou  behind,  and  even 
taking  a  packet  of  cigarette  papers  away  with  him;  and  the  count, 
very  pale,  had  crept  downstairs  again  on  tiptoe,  so  that  he  might 
feign  ignorance  of  the  occurrence.  On  another  occasion  he  was 
obliged  to  be  aware  of  everything.  Nana,  infatuated  with  a  singer 
at  a  music-hall,  and  forsaken  by  him,  wanted  to  commit  suicide 
in  a  fit  of  gloomy  sentimentality.  She  swallowed  a  glass  of  water 
in  which  she  had  soaked  a  handful  of  matches,  and  was  horribly 
ill  in  consequence,  but  did  not  die.  The  count  had  to  nurse  her 
and  listen  to  the  story  of  her  passion  intermingled  with  tears  and 

C3743 


NANA 

oaths  never  to  care  for  men  again.  In  her  contempt  for  the  pigs, 
as  she  called  them,  she  could  not,  however,  keep  her  heart  free, 
having  always  some  sweetheart  about  her  skirts,  and  indulging 
in  the  most  inexplicable  caprices,  through  the  depraved  tastes  of 
her  wearied  body. 

Since  Zoe  relaxed  her  supervision  to  meet  her  own  ends,  the 
good  management  of  the  household  had  disappeared  to  the  extent 
that  Muffat  dared  not  open  a  door,  draw  a  curtain,  or  look  into 
a  cupboard.  The  machinery  no  longer  worked.  Gentlemen 
were  hanging  about  everywhere;  at  every  minute  they  were 
knocking  up  against  each  other.  Now,  he  invariably  coughed 
before  entering  a  room,  having  almost  found  the  young  woman 
with  her  arms  round  Francis's  neck  one  evening  that  he  had 
left  the  dressing-room  for  a  couple  of  minutes  to  order  the  car- 
riage, whilst  the  hairdresser  was  giving  a  few  finishing  touches 
to  madame's  hair.  It  was  for  ever  sudden  abandonments  behind 
his  back  —  pleasures  snatched  in  odd  corners,  quickly,  and  in 
her  chemise  or  in  her  most  gorgeous  costumes,  with  whoever 
happened  to  be  with  her.  Then  delighted  with  her  robbery,  she 
would  rejoin  him,  looking  very  red  in  the  face.  With  him  there 
would  have  been  no  pleasure;  he  was  such  an  abominable  nuisance! 

In  the  agony  of  his  jealousy,  the  unhappy  man  had  reached  the 
state  of  feeling  easy  whenever  he  left  Nana  and  Satin  alone  to- 
gether. He  would  have  encouraged  her  in  this  connection  for 
the  sake  of  keeping  the  men  away.  But  on  this  side  also  every- 
thing went  wrong.  Nana  deceived  Satin,  the  same  as  she  deceived 
the  count,  having  a  rage  for  the  most  monstrous  crazes,  picking 
up  girls  from  the  street  corners.  When  returning  home  in  her 
carriage,  she  would  at  times  become  enamoured  of  some  strumpet 
caught  sight  of  on  the  pavement,  her  senses  inflamed,  her  imagi- 
nation kindled;  and  she  would  take  the  woman  with  her,  then 
pay  her  and  send  her  away.  At  other  times,  disguised  as  a  man, 
she  would  frequent  houses  of  ill  repute,  and  witness  spectacles 
of  debauchery,  which  helped  her  to  forget  her  weariness;  and 
Satin,  annoyed  at  being  continually  forsaken,  would  disturb  the 
house  with  the  most  atrocious  scenes.  She  had  ended  by  gaining 
complete  mastery  over  Nana,  who  respected  her.  Muffat  even 
thought  of  allying  himself  with  her.  When  he  did  not  dare  to  do 
anything  himself,  he  would  set  Satin  to  work.  Twice  she  had  made 
her  darling  take  him  back;  whilst  he  showed  himself  very  oblig- 


NANA 

ing,  giving  her  a  word  of  warning  or  making  himself  scarce  at 
the  least  sign.  Only  the  understanding  did  not  last  long;  for 
Satin  too  was  cracked.  On  certain  days  she  would  smash  every- 
thing, feeling  half  dead,  ruining  what  little  health  she  had  left  in 
excesses  of  anger  or  of  dissipation,  looking  pretty  though,  in  spite 
of  all.  Zoe  probably  set  her  off;  for  she  took  her  into  corners, 
as  though  she  wished  to  gain  her  over  in  the  interests  of  that 
grand  business  of  hers,  that  plan  of  which  she  had  never  yet 
spoken  to  anyone. 

Singular  fits  of  revolt,  however,  still  took  possession  of  Count 
Muffat.  He  who  had  tolerated  Satin  for  months  past,  who  had 
ended  by  accepting  strangers,  all  that  troop  of  men  galloping 
through  Nana's  bedroom,  became  enraged  at  the  idea  of  being  de- 
ceived by  any  of  his  friends,  or  even  acquaintances.  When  she 
owned  to  him  her  intimacy  with  Foucarmont,  he  suffered  so  much, 
he  considered  the  young  man's  treachery  so  abominable,  that  he 
wished  to  provoke  him  to  a  duel.  As  he  did  not  know  whom  to 
ask  to  be  his  seconds  in  such  an  affair,  he  consulted  Labordette. 
The  latter  was  so  astounded,  that  he  could  not  refrain  from 
laughing. 

"A  duel  about  Nana!  But,  dear  sir,  all  Paris  would  laugh 
at  you.  No  one  could  fight  for  Nana;  it  would  be  too  ridiculous.'1 

The  count  became  very  pale.  He  made  a  violent  gesture. 
"Then  I  will  strike  him,  in  the  street  before  every  one." 

For  an  hour  Labordette  had  to  reason  with  him.  A  blow 
would  make  the  story  odious;  by  the  evening  every  one  would 
know  the  real  cause  of  the  meeting  —  he  would  be  the  laughing- 
stock of  the  newspapers.  And  Labordette  kept  returning  to  this 
conclusion. 

"Impossible,  it  would  be  too  ridiculous!" 

Each  time  these  words  fell  upon  Muffat  sharp  and  clean  like 
the  blow  of  a  knife.  He  could  not  even  fight  for  the  woman  he 
loved;  every  one  would  split  their  sides  with  laughing.  Never 
before  had  he  so  painfully  felt  the  misery  of  his  love,  that  solemn 
feeling  of  his  heart  lost  in  that  fooling  of  pleasure.  This  was  his 
last  revolt;  he  let  himself  be  convinced.  From  that  time  he 
assisted  at  the  procession  of  his  friends,  of  all  the  men  who  lived 
there  in  the  privacy  of  the  mansion. 

In  a  few  months  Nana  devoured  them  greedily,  one  after  the 
other.  The  increasing  requirements  of  her  luxury  whetted  her 

C376H 


NANA 

appetite,  she  cleaned  a  man  out  with  the  craunch  of  her  teeth. 
First,  she  had  Foucarmont,  who  did  not  last  a  fortnight.  He 
had  dreamed  of  leaving  the  navy.  In  ten  years  of  a  seafaring 
life  he  had  saved  some  thirty  thousand  francs,  which  he  wanted 
to  risk  in  the  United  States;  and  his  prudent  and  even  miserly 
instincts  were  silenced  —  he  gave  all,  even  his  signature  to  accom- 
modation bills,  thus  affecting  his  future.  When  Nana  turned 
him  adrift,  he  was  penniless.  However,  she  showed  herself  very 
kind-hearted  —  she  advised  him  to  return  to  his  ship.  What 
was  the  use  of  being  obstinate?  As  he  had  no  money  left,  he 
could  not  possibly  remain  with  her.  He  ought  to  understand  that 
and  be  reasonable.  A  ruined  man  fell  from  her  hands  like  ripe 
fruit,  to  rot  on  the  earth*  all  by  himself. 

Next,  Nana  tackled  Steiner  without  disgust,  but  also  without 
love.  She  called  him  a  dirty  Jew.  She  seemed  to  be  gratifying 
an  old  hatred  which  she  could  not  very  well  explain  to  herself. 
He  was  fat,  he  was  stupid,  and  she  turned  him  about,  taking 
double  mouthfuls,  wishing  to  have  done  with  the  Prussian  all 
the  quicker.  He  had  given  up  Simone.  His  Bosphorus  specu- 
lation was  already  in  jeopardy.  Nana  hastened  his  downfall 
by  the  most  lavish  expenditure.  For  a  month  still  he  struggled, 
performing  miracles.  He  covered  Europe  with  a  colossal  pub- 
licity —  posters,  advertisements,  prospectuses  —  and  extracted 
money  from  the  most  distant  countries.  All  those  savings,  the 
louis  of  the  speculators  the  same  as  the  sous  of  the  poor  people, 
were  swallowed  up  in  the  Avenue  de  Villiers.  He  had  also  gone 
into  partnership  with  an  iron-founder  in  Alsace.  There  were 
there,  in  a  corner  of  the  country,  workmen  black  with  coal  dust, 
bathed  with  perspiration,  who,  night  and  day,  tightened  their 
muscles  and  heard  their  bones  crack,  to  supply  the  means  for 
Nana's  pleasures.  She  devoured  all  like  a  great  fire  —  the  thefts 
at  the  Bourse,  the  earnings  of  labour. 

This  time  she  finished  Steiner.  She  returned  him  to  the  pave- 
ment, sucked  to  the  bone,  so  emptied  that  he  remained  even  in- 
capable of  inventing  a  fresh  roguery.  In  the  collapse  of  his  bank- 
ing establishment  he  went  crazy;  he  trembled  at  the  name  of 
the  police.  He  was  made  a  bankrupt;  and  the  mere  word  " money" 
bewildered  him,  threw  him  into  a  childish  state  of  embarrass- 
ment —  he  who  had  handled  millions.  One  evening  when  with 
her,  he  burst  out  crying.  He  asked  her  to  lend  him  a  hundred 

C3773 


NANA 

francs  to  pay  his  servant;  and  Nana,  affected  and  amused  by 
this  ending  of  the  terrible  old  man  who  for  twenty  years  past  had 
been  skimming  the  Paris  market,  brought  him  the  money,  saying, 

"You  know,  I  give  'em  you  because  it's  funny;  but  listen, 
my  little  man,  you're  not  of  an  age  for  me  to  keep  you.  You  must 
seek  some  other  occupation." 

Then  Nana  at  once  started  on  La  Faloise.  He  had  for  a  long 
time  been  soliciting  the  honour  of  being  ruined  by  her,  so  as  to 
be  a  perfect  swell.  That  was  what  he  was  in  want  of;  he  must 
have  a  woman  to  bring  him  out.  In  two  months  Paris  would 
know  him,  and  he  would  read  his  own  name  in  all  the  newspapers. 
Six  weeks  sufficed.  His  inheritance  consisted  of  landed  estates, 
fields,  pastures,  woods,  and  farms.  He  had  to  sell  them  rapidly, 
one  after  the  other.  At  every  bite  Nana  devoured  an  acre.  The 
foliage  frizzling  beneath  the  sun,  the  rich  ripe  corn,  the  golden 
vines  in  September,  the  tall  grass  in  which  the  cows  buried  them- 
selves up  to  their  shoulders  —  all  went  as  though  engulfed  in 
some  abyss;  and  there  were  also  a  stream,  a  lime  quarry,  and 
three  windmills  which  disappeared.  Nana  passed  like  an  invad- 
ing army  —  like  one  of  those  clouds  of  locusts  whose  flight  destroys 
a  whole  province  similar  to  a  flame  of  fire.  She  burnt  the  earth 
wherever  she  placed  her  tiny  foot.  Farm  after  farm,  meadow 
after  meadow,  she  nibbled  up  the  inheritance  in  her  pretty  way, 
without  even  noticing  what  she  was  about,  just  the  same  as  she 
would  craunch  up  a  bag  of  burnt  almonds,  placed  on  her  knees, 
between  her  meals.  It  was  a  matter  of  no  consequence;  they 
were  merely  sweeties.  But  one  night  there  only  remained  a 
small  wood.  She  swallowed  it  with  a  disdainful  air,  for  it  was 
really  not  worth  the  trouble  of  opening  one's  mouth  for. 

La  Faloise  laughed  in  an  idiotic  way  as  he  sucked  the  knob 
of  his  walking-stick.  Debts  were  crushing  him  down;  he  no 
longer  possessed  a  hundred  francs  of  income.  He  saw  himself 
obliged  to  go  back  to  the  country  and  live  with  a  maniacal  uncle. 
But  that  did  not  matter;  he  was  a  swell.  The  "Figaro"  had 
twice  printed  his  name;  and  with  his  skinny  neck  rising  out  of 
his  collar  slightly  turned  down  in  front,  his  waist  encased  in  a 
waistcoat  a  great  deal  too  tight,  he  swaggered  about,  uttering 
exclamations  like  a  parrot,  and  affecting  the  languors  of  a  wooden 
puppet  that  has  never  had  an  emotion.  Nana,  whom  he  irritated 
immensely,  ended  by  beating  him. 

£378] 


NANA 

Fauchery,  however,  had  returned,  brought  by  his  cousin.  The 
unfortunate  Fauchery  at  this  time  had  become  quite  a  family 
man.  After  breaking  off  with  the  countess,  he  found  himself  in 
the  hands  of  Rose,  who  treated  him  as  a  real  husband.  Mignon 
simply  remained  madame's  major-domo.  Installed  as  master, 
the  journalist  used  to  lie  to  Rose,  and,  whenever  he  deceived 
her,  had  to  take  all  sorts  of  precautions,  full  of  the  scruples  of  a 
good  spouse  desirous  of  at  length  settling  down.  Nana's  triumph 
was  to  hook  him  and  to  devour  a  newspaper  he  had  started  with 
the  money  of  one  of  his  friends.  She  did  not  openly  go  about 
with  him.  She  took  a  delight,  on  the  contrary,  in  treating  him 
as  a  gentleman  who  must  conceal  his  movements;  and  whenever 
she  spoke  of  Rose,  she  would  say  "that  poor  Rose."  The  news- 
paper supplied  her  with  flowers  for  a  couple  of  months.  She  had 
subscribers  in  the  country.  She  took  everything,  from  the  lead- 
ing article  to  the  theatrical  notes.  Then,  after  wearing  out  the 
editors,  dislocating  the  management,  she  satisfied  one  of  her  big 
caprices  —  a  winter  garden  in  a  corner  of  her  mansion  —  which 
carried  off  the  printing  establishment. 

It  was  merely  by  way  of  amusement,  however.  When  Mignon, 
delighted  with  what  was  taking  place,  hastened  to  see  if  he  could 
not  fix  Fauchery  on  her  for  good,  she  asked  him  if  he  was  poking 
fun  at  her  —  a  fellow  without  a  sou,  living  on  his  articles  and  his 
plays;  not  if  she  knew  it!  Such  stupidity  was  only  worthy  of 
a  woman  of  talent  like  that  poor  Rose;  and,  full  of  mistrust, 
fearing  some  underhand  dealing  on  Mignon's  part,  who  was 
quite  capable  of  denouncing  them  to  his  wife,  she  dismissed 
Fauchery,  who  for  some  time  had  only  been  paying  her  in  advertise- 
ments. 

But  she  remembered  him  with  pleasure;  they  had  amused 
themselves  so  much  together  with  that  idiot  La  Faloise.  They 
would  never  perhaps  have  thought  of  being  together  again,  if 
the  pleasure  of  humbugging  such  a  fool  had  not  excited  them. 
It  seemed  to  them  so  funny*.  They  would  embrace  each  other 
under  his  nose,  they  lived  the  merriest  possible  life  at  his  expense, 
they  would  send  him  on  some  errand  to  the  other  end  of  Paris, 
whenever  they  wanted  to  be  alone  together;  then,  when  he  re- 
turned, they  would  make  jokes  and  allusions  that  he  was  unable 
to  understand.  One  day,  incited  by  the  journalist,  she  bet  that 
she  would  give  La  Faloise  a  slap  in  the  face;  that  very  evening 

C3793 


NANA 

she  did  so,  then  continued  to  beat  him,  finding  it  amusing,  and 
delighted  at  being  able  to  show  what  cowards  men  were.  She 
called  him  her  slapping  machine,  told  him  to  come  up  and  receive 
his  slaps,  slaps  which  made  her  hand  quite  red,  because  she  was 
not  yet  accustomed  to  the  exercise.  La  Faloise  laughed  in  his 
idiotic  way,  with  his  eyes  full  of  tears.  This  familiarity  delighted 
him;  he  thought  it  grand. 

"You  don't  know,"  said  he  one  night,  very  excited  after  re- 
ceiving a  shower  of  blows,  "you  ought  to  marry  me.  Eh!  shouldn't 
we  make  a  jolly  couple?" 

It  was  not  an  empty  remark.  He  had  slyly  projected  this 
marriage,  seized  with  a  mania  for  astonishing  Paris.  Nana's 
husband  —  eh!  what  an  effect!  A  rather  grand  apotheosis!  But 
Nana  snuffed  him  out  in  fine  style. 

"I  marry  you!  Well!  if  I'd  been  worried  with  any  such  idea 
I  could  long  ago  have  found  a  husband!  And  a  man  who  would 
be  worth  twenty  such  as  you,  my  little  fellow.  I  have  received 
no  end  of  proposals.  Come  reckon  them  up  with  me:  Philippe, 
George,  Foucarmont,  Steiner,  there's  four,  without  counting  the 
others  whom  you  don't  know.  They  all  sing  the  same  chorus. 
I  can't  be  nice  with  them  without  they  at  once  start  off  singing: 
'Will  you  marry  me?  will  you  marry  me?"  She  was  becoming 
excited.  Then  she  burst  out  indignantly,  "Well!  no,  I  won't! 
Was  I  ever  made  for  such  a  life  as  that?  Look  at  me.  I  should 
no  longer  be  Nana  if  I  saddled  myself  with  a  husband.  And, 
besides,  it's  too  disgusting." 

And  she  spat  on  the  ground,  she  hiccoughed  with  disgust,  as 
though  she  saw  all  the  filth  of  the  earth  spreading  beneath  her. 

One  night  La  Faloise  disappeared.  A  week  later  it  was  stated 
that  he  was  in  the  country  with  his  uncle,  who  had  a  mania  for 
botanising;  he  mounted  his  specimens,  and  stood  a  chance  of 
marrying  a  cousin  who  was  very  ugly  and  extremely  devout. 
Nana  did  not  weep  for  him  much.  She  merely  said  to  the 
count, 

"Well,  my  little  muff!  that's  another  rival  the  less.  You're 
in  high  feather  to-day.  But  he  was  becoming  serious;  he  wanted 
to  marry  me." 

As  he  turned  pale,  she  laughingly  put  her  arms  round  his  neck, 
thrusting  each  of  her  cruelties  into  him  with  a  caress. 

"And  it's  that  which  bothers  you,  isn't  it?  You  can't  marry 

C380] 


NANA 

Nana.  Whilst  they're  all  trying  to  get  me  to  marry  them,  you're 
chafing  all  alone  in  your  corner.  It's  not  possible,  you  must 
wait  till  your  wife  croaks.  Ah!  if  your  wife  was  to  croak,  wouldn't 
you  just  hasten  to  me  —  wouldn't  you  just  throw  yourself  at  my 
feet  and  offer  me  everything,  all  the  usual  style,  with  sighs,  and 
tears,  and  protestations?  Eh,  darling!  it  would  be  so  nice!" 

Her  voice  had  become  soft,  she  fooled  him  with  an  air  of 
ferocious  cajolery.  He,  deeply  moved,  blushed  as  he  returned  her 
embraces.  Then  she  cried, 

"Damn  it  all!  to  think  that  I  guessed  right!  He  has  thought 
of  it,  he's  waiting  till  his  wife  croaks.  Ah,  well!  this  is  too  much 
—  he's  a  bigger  scamp  than  the  others!" 

Muffat  had  accepted  the  others.  Now  he  made  it  a  last  point 
of  dignity  to  remain  the  "master"  with  the  servants  and  the 
frequenters  of  the  house  —  the  man  who,  giving  the  most,  was 
the  official  lover.  And  his  passion  became  madder  than  ever. 
He  kept  his  place  by  paying,  buying  even  smiles  at  fabulous  prices, 
often  robbed  and  never  receiving  his  money's  worth;  but  it  was 
like  a  disease  that  was  devouring  him,  he  could  not  help  suffering 
from  it.  When  he  entered  Nana's  bed-room,  he  contented  him- 
self with  opening  the  windows  for  a  minute,  so  as  to  get  rid  of 
the  odours  left  by  the  others  —  the  effluvia  of  both  dark  and  fair, 
the  cigar  smoke,  the  staleness  of  which  nearly  suffocated  him. 
The  room  was  becoming  a  public  square;  boots  of  all  kinds  were 
continually  being  wiped  on  the  threshold,  and  not  one  was  arrested 
by  that  bloody  mark  which  barred  the  entry.  Zoe  was  greatly 
worried  by  that  stain,  merely  a  tidy  girl's  mania.  She  was  annoyed 
at  always  seeing  it  there;  her  eyes  were  attracted  to  it  in  spite  of 
herself.  She  never  entered  madame's  room  without  saying, 

"It's  funny  it  doesn't  go  away;  yet  a  great  many  people  come 
here." 

Nana,  who  had  been  receiving  better  news  of  George,  then  in 
a  state  of  convalescence  at  Les  Fondettes  with  his  mother,  each 
time  made  the  same  reply : 

"Ah,  well!  you  must  give  it  time.  It's  gradually  becoming 
paler  beneath  the  footsteps." 

And,  indeed,  each  one  of  the  gentlemen  —  Foucarmont,  Steiner, 
La  Faloise,  Fauchery,  and  the  others  —  had  carried  away  a  little 
of  the  stain  on  the  soles  of  their  boots.  And  Muffat,  who  was 
worried  as  much  as  Zoe  by  the  mark  of  blood,  studied  it  in  spite 


NANA 

of  himself,  to  read,  as  it  were,  in  its  rosier  and  rosier  effacement, 
the  number  of  men  who  passed  there.  He  had  a  secret  dread 
of  it,  always  stepping  over  it  through  a  sudden  fear  of  crushing 
something  living  —  a  naked  limb  lying  on  the  floor. 

Then  in  that  room  an  unconquerable  feeling  intoxicated  him. 
He  forgot  all  —  the  mob  of  other  men  who  passed  through  it, 
the  mourning  that  barred  the  door.  Outside,  at  times,  in  the 
open  air  of  the  street,  he  would  shed  tears  of  shame  and  indig- 
nation, and  swear  never  to  return  there;  and  the  moment  he 
had  passed  the  threshold,  he  was  recaptured.  He  felt  his  will 
give  way  in  the  warmth  of  the  apartment;  his  flesh  penetrated 
with  a  perfume,  overpowered  by  a  voluptuous  desire  of  annihila- 
tion. He,  devout  and  used  to  the  rapturous  feelings  enkindled 
by  the  contemplation  of  gorgeous  shrines,  experienced  exactly 
the  same  sensations  of  a  believer,  as  when,  kneeling  in  some 
church,  he  became  entranced  by  the  sounds  of  the  organ  and 
the  perfume  of  the  incense.  The  woman  ruled  him  with  the 
jealous  despotism  of  a  god  of  anger,  terrifying  him,  giving  him 
seconds  of  joy,  acute  as  spasms,  for  hours  of  frightful  torments, 
of  visions  of  hell  and  everlasting  damnation.  It  was  always  the 
same  stutterings,  the  same  prayers,  and  the  same  despondencies, 
especially  the  same  humilities  of  an  accursed  creature  crushed 
beneath  the  mud  of  his  origin.  The  desires  of  his  flesh,  the  re- 
quirements of  his  soul,  mingled  and  seemed  to  rise  from  the  obscure 
depths  of  his  being,  like  a  single  blossom  of  the  tree  of  life.  He 
abandoned  himself  to  the  power  of  love  and  faith,  whose  double 
lever  animates  the  world.  And  always,  in  spite  of  the  struggles 
of  his  reason,  Nana's  room  filled  him  with  madness.  He  shiver- 
ingly  succumbed  to  the  all-powerfulness  of  her  sex,  the  same  as 
he  felt  lost  before  the  vast  unknown  of  heaven. 

Then  when  she  found  him  so  humble,  Nana's  triumph  became 
tyrannical.  She  instinctively  had  a  rage  for  debasing  every- 
thing. It  was  not  sufficient  for  her  to  destroy  things;  she  polluted 
them.  Her  delicate  hands  left  abominable  traces  behind  them; 
they  decomposed  by  their  mere  touch  all  that  they  had  broken. 
And  he,  idiot  that  he  was,  lent  himself  to  this  sport,  with  the  vague 
remembrance  of  saints  devoured  by  lice,  and  who  eat  what  they 
had  voided.  When  she  had  him  in  her  room,  with  the  doors 
fastened,  she  would  feast  herself  with  the  sight  of  man's  infamy. 
At  first  it  was  merely  fun.  She  would  give  him  little  slaps  and 

£382:1 


NANA 

make  him  do  comical  things,  such  as  lisping  like  a  child,  repeating 
ends  of  sentences. 

"Say  it  like  me,  *  And  dash  it  all!  Coco  doesn't  care!": 

He  would  be  obedient  even  to  imitating  her  accent. 

"And  dash  it  all!    Coco  doesn't  care!" 

Or  she  would  do  the  woolly  bear,  on  all  fours  on  the  fur  rugs, 
in  her  chemise,  and  turning  round  and  round  and  grunting,  as 
though  she  meant  to  eat  him  up;  and  she  would  even  bite  his 
calves,  just  for  fun.  Then  she  would  get  up  and  say, 

"Now  it's  your  turn.  I  bet  you  won't  do  the  woolly  bear  as 
well  as  me." 

It  was  charming.  She  amused  him  as  a  bear,  with  her  white 
skin  and  her  golden  mane.  He  laughed,  he  also  went  on  all 
fours,  he  grunted  and  bit  her  calves,  whilst  she  hopped  about, 
pretending  to  be  greatly  frightened. 

"Aren't  we  stupid,  eh?"  she  would  end  by  saying.  "You've 
no  idea  how  ugly  you  look,  my  dear!  Ah,  well!  if  they  could 
only  see  you  now,  at  the  Tuileries!" 

But  these  little  games  soon  took  an  ugly  turn.  It  wasn't 
through  cruelty  on  her  part,  for  she  still  remained  a  good-natured 
girl;  it  was  like  a  breath  of  madness,  which  passed  and  increased 
little  by  little  in  the  closed  room.  A  lewdness  seemed  to  possess 
them,  and  inspire  them  with  the  delirious  imaginations  of  the 
flesh.  The  old  devout  frights  of  their  night  of  wakefulness  had 
now  turned  into  a  thirst  for  bestiality,  a  mania  for  going  on  all  fours, 
for  grunting  and  biting.  Then  one  day,  as  he  was  doing  the  woolly 
bear,  she  pushed  him  so  roughly  that  he  fell  against  a  piece  of 
furniture;  and  she  broke  out  into  an  involuntary  laugh  as  she 
saw  a  bump  on  his  forehead.  From  that  time,  having  already 
acquired  a  taste  for  it  by  her  experiment  on  La  Faloise,  she  treated 
him  as  an  animal,  goaded  him  and  pursued  him  with  kicks. 

"Gee  up!  gee  up!  you're  the  horse.  Haw,  gee!  dirty  jade! 
move  along  quicker  than  that!" 

At  other  times  he  was  a  dog.  She  would  throw  her  scented 
handkerchief  to  the  other  end  of  the  room,  and  he  had  to  go  and 
pick  it  up  with  his  teeth,  crawling  along  on  his  hands  and 
knees. 

"Fetch  it,  Caesar!  I'll  give  you  the  stick  if  you're  not  quick! 
Good  dog,  Caesar!  pretty,  obedient  fellow!  Now,  beg!" 

And  he  delighted  in  his  baseness,  and  relished  the  enjoyment 

C3833 


NANA 

of  being  a  brute.     He  aspired  at  falling  still  lower  —  he  would 
cry  out, 

"Hit  harder!  Bow  wow!  I'm  mad,  hit  away!" 
She  was  seized  with  a  caprice.  She  insisted  on  his  coming 
one  evening  arrayed  in  his  gorgeous  chamberlain's  costume. 
Then  she  laughed  and  ridiculed  him  when  she  had  him  in  his 
court  dress,  with  the  sword,  and  the  hat,  and  the  white  breeches, 
and  the  scarlet  cloth  dress  coat  bedizened  with  gold,  and  the 
symbolical  key  hanging  over  the  left-hand  tail.  This  key  especially 
amused  her,  and  filled  her  with  a  mad  fancy  for  filthy  explanations. 
Always  laughing,  and  carried  away  by  a  disrespect  for  greatness, 
and  by  the  delight  of  vilifying  it  beneath  the  official  pomp  of 
that  costume,  she  shook  him  and  pinched  him,  and  kept  exclaim- 
ing, "Eh!  get  along,  you  chamberlain!"  ending  by  accompany- 
ing her  words  with  kicks  behind;  and  she  heartily  meant  those 
kicks  for  the  Tuileries,  for  the  majesty  of  the  imperial  court, 
throning  herself  on  high,  over  the  fear  and  the  prostration  of  all. 
That  was  what  she  thought  of  society !  It  was  her  revenge  — 
an  unconscious  family  grudge,  bequeathed  with  the  blood.  Then, 
the  chamberlain  having  undressed,  his  coat  spread  out  on  the 
floor,  she  cried  to  him  to  jump,  and  he  jumped;  she  cried  to  him 
to  spit,  and  he  spat;  she  cried  to  him  to  walk  over  the  gold,  over 
the  eagles,  over  the  decorations,  and  he  walked.  Slap!  bang! 
there  was  nothing  left  —  all  had  collapsed.  She  demolished  a 
chamberlain  as  easily  as  she  broke  a  scent-bottle  or  a  comfit- 
box,  and  she  turned  him  into  a  lump  of  filth  —  a  heap  of  mud  at 
a  street  corner. 

The  goldsmiths,  however,  had  not  kept  their  word.  The  bed- 
stead was  not  delivered  until  towards  the  middle  of  January. 
Muffat  at  the  time  was  in  Normandy,  where  he  had  gone  to  sell 
a  last  remnant  of  the  wreck.  He  was  not  expected  back  until 
two  days  later;  but,  having  settled  his  business,  he  hastened  his 
return,  and  without  even  calling  at  the  Rue  Miromesnil,  he 
went  to  the  Avenue  de  Villiers.  Ten  o'clock  was  striking.  As 
he  had  the  key  of  a  little  door  opening  on  to  the  Rue  Cardinet, 
he  entered  without  being  noticed.  Upstairs,  in  the  parlour, 
Zoe,  who  was  dusting  some  bronzes,  was  struck  with  amazement; 
and,  not  knowing  how  to  detain  him,  began  telling  him  a  long 
story  about  M.  Venot,  who,  in  a  most  agitated  state  of  mind, 
had  been  seeking  him  since  the  day  before;  that  he  had  already 

£384:1 


NANA 

called  there  twice,  and  implored  her  to  send  the  count  at  once 
to  him  if  he  came  to  madame's  first.  Muffat  listened  to  her 
without  understanding  anything  of  the  rigmarole;  then  he  noticed 
her  confusion,  and  seized  suddenly  with  a  jealous  rage,  of  which 
he  no  longer  thought  himself  capable,  he  rushed  against  the  door 
of  the  bed-room,  from  whence  issued  sounds  of  laughter.  The 
door  gave  way  and  flew  open,  whilst  Zoe  retired  shrugging  her 
shoulders.  So  much  the  worse!  As  madame  was  going  mad, 
madame  must  get  out  of  the  mess  by  herself. 

And  Muffat,  on  the  threshold,  uttered  a  cry  at  the  sight  before 
him. 

"My  God!   my  God!" 

The  newly  decorated  room  was  resplendent  in  its  regal  luxury. 
Silver  buttons  strewed  the  tea  rose  velvet  hangings  with  shin- 
ing stars.  It  was  the  rosy  colour  of  flesh  which  illuminates  the 
sky  on  fine  nights,  when  Venus  sparkles  at  the  horizon  on  the 
light  background  of  the  expiring  day;  whilst  the  cords  of  gold 
hanging  down  at  the  corners,  the  gold  lace  framing  the  panels, 
were  like  bright  flames,  or  loose  switches  of  red  hair,  half  cover- 
ing the  great  nudity  of  the  room,  the  voluptuous  paleness  of 
which  they  enriched.  Then,  opposite,  was  the  gold  and  silver 
bedstead,  which  shone  with  the  new  brightness  of  its  chasings  — 
a  throne  large  enough  for  Nana  to  stretch  the  royalty  of  her  naked 
limbs  —  an  altar  of  a  Byzantine  richness,  worthy  of  the  all- 
powerfulness  of  her  sex,  and  on  which  at  this  very  moment  she 
displayed  it,  uncovered,  and  in  the  religious  immodesty  of  a 
dreaded  idol.  And,  near  her,  beneath  the  snowy  reflection  of 
her  bosom,  in  the  midst  of  her  goddess-like  triumph,  sprawled 
a  shameful  and  decrepit  object,  a  comical  and  lamentable  ruin, 
the  Marquis  de  Chouard  in  his  night-shirt. 

The  count  joined  his  hands.  Seized  with  a  great  fit  of  trembling, 
he  repeated,  "My  God!  my  God!" 

It  was  for  the  Marquis  de  Chouard  that  the  golden  roses  of 
the  boat  flowered  —  bunches  of  golden  roses  blooming  amidst 
the  golden  foliage;  it  was  for  him  that  the  cupids,  dancing  in  a 
circle  against  the  silver  trellis,  leant  forward  with  a  laugh  of 
amorous  sauciness;  and  it  was  for  him  that  the  faun  at  his  feet 
uncovered  the  sleeping  nymph,  wearied  with  voluptuousness  — 
that  figure  of  Night,  copied  from  Nana's  celebrated  nudity, 
even  to  the  too  amply  developed  thighs,  which  would  cause 

£385:1 


NANA 

everyone  to  recognise  her.  Thrown  there  like  a  piece  of  human 
rubbish,  corrupted  and  shattered  by  sixty  years  of  debauchery, 
the  marquis  appeared  as  a  corner  of  a  charnel-house,  surrounded 
by  the  glory  of  the  woman's  dazzling  flesh.  When  he  saw  the 
door  open  he  raised  himself  up,  seized  with  the  fright  of  a  paralytic 
old  man.  This  last  night  of  licentiousness  had  smitten  him  with 
imbecility,  he  had  fallen  into  his  second  childhood;  and,  no  longer 
able  to  find  his  words  —  half  paralysed,  stuttering,  shivering  — 
he  remained  in  an  attitude  of  flight,  his  night-shirt  rucked  up 
over  his  skeleton  of  a  body,  one  leg  outside  the  clothes  —  a  poor, 
livid  leg  covered  with  grey  hairs.  Nana,  in  spite  of  her  annoyance, 
could  not  help  laughing. 

"  Lie  down  —  get  under  the  clothes,"  said  she,  pushing  him 
back  and  covering  him  with  the  sheet,  like  some  bit  of  dirt  one 
does  not  wish  to  be  seen. 

And  she  ran  to  close  the  door.  She  had  really  no  luck  with 
her  little  muff!  —  he  was  always  putting  in  an  appearance  at  an 
awkward  moment.  And  why,  too,  did  he  go  off  to  seek  for  money 
in  Normandy?  The  old  fellow  had  brought  her  four  thousand 
francs,  and  she  had  let  him  have  his  way.  She  pushed  the  door 
to  again,  and  cried, 

"So  much  the  worse!  it's  all  your  fault.  That's  not  the  way 
to  enter  a  room!  There,  that'll  do.  Good-bye!" 

Muffat  stood  in  front  of  that  closed  door,  utterly  crushed 
by  what  he  had  just  seen.  His  fit  of  trembling  increased  —  a 
trembling  which  ascended  from  his  legs  to  his  chest  and  to  his 
head.  Then,  like  a  tree  caught  in  the  hurricane,  he  staggered 
and  fell  on  his  knees,  cracking  in  all  his  limbs;  and,  despairingly 
holding  out  his  hands,  he  muttered, 

"It  is  too  much.    Oh,  God!  it  is  too  much!" 

He  had  accepted  everything,  but  he  could  no  longer  bear  it. 
He  felt  himself  without  strength,  in  that  darkness  where  man 
succumbs  with  his  reason.  With  an  extraordinary  outburst, 
holding  high  his  joined  hands,  he  sought  Heaven,  he  called  on 
God. 

"Oh,  no!  I  will  not!  Oh!  come  to  me,  my  God!  help  me, 
or  rather  let  me  die!  Oh,  no!  not  that  man,  my  God!  it  is  ended 
—  take  me,  carry  me  off,  that  I  may  no  longer  see,  that  I  may  no 
longer  feel.  Oh!  I  belong  to  Thee,  my  God!  Our  Father  which 
art  in  Heaven  — " 

£3863 


NANA 

And  he  continued,  burning  with  faith,  and  an  ardent  prayer 
came  from  his  lips.  But  someone  touched  him  on  the  shoulder. 
He  raised  his  eyes:  it  was  M.  Venot,  surprised  at  finding  him 
praying  before  that  closed  door.  Then,  as  though  God  Himself 
had  replied  to  his  appeal,  he  threw  himself  into  the  little  old 
man's  arms.  At  last  he  could  weep :  he  sobbed,  and  kept  repeating, 

"My  brother,  my  brother  — " 

All  his  suffering  humanity  found  relief  in  this  cry.  He  bathed 
M.  Venot's  face  with  his  tears,  he  kissed  him,  uttering  disconnected 
sentences. 

"Oh,  my  brother,  how  I  suffer!  You  alone  are  left  to  me,  my 
brother.  Take  me  away  for  ever,  oh!  for  mercy's  sake,  take  me 
away." 

Then  M.  Venot  pressed  him  to  his  bosom.  He  called  him  his 
brother  also.  But  he  had  another  blow  to  deal  him.  Since  the 
previous  day  he  had  been  seeking  him  to  tell  him  that  Countess 
Sabine  had  crowned  her  follies  by  eloping  with  a  young  man 
employed  at  a  large  linen-draper's  —  a  frightful  scandal,  of  which 
all  Paris  was  already  gossiping.  Seeing  him  under  the  influence 
of  such  a  religious  exaltation,  he  thought  the  moment  a  favour- 
able one,  and  told  him  at  once  what  had  occurred,  that  flatly 
tragical  end  in  which  his  house  was  foundering.  The  count  was 
not  affected  in  the  least;  his  wife  had  gone  off,  that  was  nothing 
to  him,  he  would  see  about  it  later  on.  And,  again  giving  way  to 
his  anguish,  looking  at  the  door,  the  walls,  the  ceiling,  in  a  terrified 
manner,  he  could  do  no  more  than  utter  these  imploring  words: 

"Take  me  away,  I  can  bear  it  no  longer;    take  me  away." 

M.  Venot  took  him  off  like  a  child.  From  that  time  he  was  his 
entirely.  Muffat  once  more  returned  to  the  strict  duties  of  religion. 
His  life  was  blasted.  He  had  resigned  his  chamberlain's  office  in 
accordance  with  the  desire  of  the  offended  modesty  of  the  Tuileries. 
His  daughter  Estelle  had  commenced  an  action  against  him  to 
recover  a  sum  of  sixty  thousand  francs  left  her  by  an  aunt,  and 
which  she  ought  to  have  received  at  the  time  of  her  marriage. 
Ruined,  and  living  very  moderately  with  the  remannts  of  his 
great  fortune,  he  allowed  himself  to  be  finished  little  by  little  by 
the  countess,  who  devoured  the  leavings  Nana  had  disdained. 
Sabine,  corrupted  by  that  woman's  promiscuousness,  incited  to 
extremes,  became  the  final  sapper,  the  very  canker  of  the  home. 
After  various  adventures  she  had  returned,  and  he  had  taken  her 


NANA 

back  in  the  resignation  of  Christian  pardon.  She  accompanied 
him  like  his  living  shame.  But  he,  becoming  more  and  more 
indifferent,  ended  by  no  longer  suffering  from  such  things.  Heaven 
had  rescued  him  from  the  arms  of  woman  to  place  him  again  in 
the  very  arms  of  God.  It  was  a  religious  prolongation  of  Nana's 
voluptuous  pleasures,  with  the  stutterings,  the  prayers,  and  the 
despondencies  —  the  humilities  of  an  accursed  creature  crushed 
beneath  the  mud  of  his  origin.  In  the  dark  corners  of  churches, 
his  knees  chilled  by  the  cold  stones,  he  found  again  his  enjoyments 
of  former  days,  the  spasms  of  his  muscles  and  the  delicious  per- 
turbations of  his  intelligence,  in  the  same  atonement  of  the 
obscure  requirements  of  his  being. 

The  night  of  the  rupture  Mignon  called  at  the  Avenue  de 
Villiers.  He  had  got  accustomed  to  Fauchery,  he  had  ended 
by  discovering  a  thousand  advantages  in  the  presence  of  a  hus- 
band at  his  wife's.  He  left  to  him  all  the  little  cares  of  the  home, 
relied  on  him  for  an  active  supervision,  and  used  the  money  that 
came  from  his  dramatic  successes  for  the  daily  expenses  of  the 
household;  and  as,  on  the  other  hand,  Fauchery  behaved  very 
reasonably  —  never  indulging  in  any  ridiculous  jealousy,  but 
being  as  accommodating  as  Mignon  himself  with  regard  to  the 
opportunities  Rose  had  —  the  two  men  got  on  together  better 
than  ever,  delighted  with  their  association,  so  fertile  in  every 
kind  of  happiness,  and  each  one  making  his  nest  beside  the  other, 
in  a  home  where  neither  of  them  any  longer  stood  on  ceremony. 
It  was  regulated,  it  worked  very  well,  they  rivalled  each  other 
in  their  exertions  for  the  common  felicity.  It  just  happened 
that  Mignon  had  called,  by  Fauchery's  advice,  to  see  if  he  could 
not  entice  away  Nana's  maid,  whose  wonderful  intelligence  the 
journalist  had  fully  appreciated.  Rose  was  in  great  distress.  For 
a  month  past  she  had  had  to  put  up  with  inexperienced  girls, 
who  caused  her  continual  embarrassments. 

As  Zoe  admitted  him,  he  pushed  her  at  once  into  the  dining- 
room.  At  the  first  word  she  smiled.  It  was  impossible.  She 
was  leaving  madame,  she  was  about  to  set  up  in  business  on  her 
own  account;  and  she  added,  with  an  air  of  discreet  vanity, 
that  every  day  she  was  receiving  proposals  —  all  the  ladies 
wanted  her.  Madame  Blanche  had  offered  her  a  bridge  of  gold 
to  get  her  back.  Zoe  was  going  to  acquire  old  Tricon's  business, 
an  old  project  which  she  had  nursed  for  a  long  while,  an  ambition 

£3883 


NANA 

to  realise  a  fortune,  in  which  she  was  about  to  invest  her  savings. 
She  was  full  of  great  ideas.  She  dreamed  of  enlarging  the  concern, 
of  taking  a  mansion,  and  collecting  in  it  every  pleasure.  It  was 
for  this  that  she  had  even  tried  to  get  hold  of  Satin,  a  little  block- 
head who  was  now  dying  in  the  hospital,  she  had  so  ruined  her 
health. 

Mignon  having  persisted  in  his  offer,  mentioning  the  risks  one 
runs  in  business,  Zoe,  without  explaining  herself  as  to  the  nature 
of  her  projected  establishment,  contented  herself  with  saying, 
with  a  self-satisfied  smile,  just  as  though  she  had  taken  a  con- 
fectioner's shop, 

"Oh!  affairs  of  luxury  always  succeed.  You  see  I  have  been  so 
long  with  the  others  that  now  I  wish  the  others  to  be  with  me." 

And  a  ferocious  feeling  made  her  curl  her  lip.  She  would  at 
last  be  "madame."  She  would  have  at  her  feet,  for  the  sum  of 
a  few  louis,  those  women  whose  slops  she  had  been  emptying  for 
fifteen  years  past. 

Mignon  wished  to  see  Nana,  and  Zoe  left  him  for  a  minute, 
after  saying  that  madame  had  passed  a  very  unpleasant  day. 
He  had  only  called  there  once,  he  did  not  know  the  house  at 
all.  The  dining-room,  with  its  Gobelin  tapestry,  its  sideboard, 
and  its  silver  plate,  amazed  him.  He  familiarly  opened  the  doors, 
and  visited  the  drawing-room  and  the  winter  garden,  and  then 
returned  to  the  hall;  and  this  excessive  luxury  —  the  gilded 
furniture,  the  silks,  and  the  velvets  —  filled  him  little  by  little 
with  an  admiration  which  caused  his  heart  to  bump.  When 
Zoe  came  downstairs  to  fetch  him,  she  offered  to  show  him  the 
other  rooms  —  the  bed-room,  the  dressing-room.  Then,  in  the 
bed-room,  Mignon's  heart  almost  burst.  He  was  excited  to  the 
highest  point  of  enthusiasm.  That  confounded  Nana  astounded 
him,  he  who  was  not  easily  surprised  at  anything.  In  the  midst 
of  the  downfall  of  the  establishment,  of  the  waste  and  the  mas- 
sacring gallop  of  the  servants,  there  was  a  pile  of  riches  which 
stopped  up  the  holes  and  covered  the  ruins. 

And  Mignon,  in  the  face  of  that  magisterial  monument,  re- 
called many  great  works  he  had  seen.  Near  Marseilles  he  had 
been  shown  an  aqueduct,  the  stone  arches  of  which  spanned  an 
abyss  —  a  Cyclopean  work  which  had  cost  millions  and  ten  years 
of  struggle.  At  Cherbourg  he  had  seen  the  new  harbour  in  course 
of  construction  —  a  gigantic  undertaking,  hundreds  of  men  sweat- 

C3893 


NANA 

ing  in  the  sunshine,  machines  filling  the  sea  with  huge  masses 
of  rock,  erecting  a  wall  where  at  times  workmen  were  squashed 
to  a  bloody  pulp.  But  all  that  seemed  small  to  him  now.  Nana 
exalted  him  far  more;  and  in  contemplating  her  work,  he  expe- 
rienced once  again  that  sensation  of  respect  experienced  by  him 
one  night  at  an  entertainment  in  a  chateau  which  a  sugar  refiner 
had  had  built  —  a  palace  the  royal  splendour  of  which  had  been 
paid  for  by  one  single  thing,  sugar.  She  had  paid  with  something 
different,  a  bit  of  fun  at  which  one  laughed  —  a  little  of  her  delicate 
nudity.  It  was  with  this  shameful  and  yet  so  mighty  a  nothing, 
/  the  power  of  which  excited  the  world,  that  all  alone,  without 
workmen,  without  machinery  invented  by  engineers,  she  had 
shaken  Paris  and  built  up  that  fortune  beneath  which  dead  bodies 
were  slumbering. 

"Ah!  damn  it  all!  what  a  tool!"  exclaimed  Mignon  en- 
raptured, and  with  a  return  of  personal  gratitude. 

Nana  little  by  little  had  become  very  sorrowful.  At  first  the 
meeting  of  the  marquis  and  the  count  had  thrown  her  into  a 
nervous  fever,  accompanied  by  a  slight  touch  of  gaiety.  Then, 
the  thought  of  the  old  fellow  who  had  gone  off  in  a  cab,  half 
dead,  and  of  her  poor  muff  whom  she  would  never  see  again, 
after  having  so  often  vexed  him,  brought  about  the  beginning 
of  a  sentimental  melancholy.  After  this  she  had  got  quite  angry 
on  hearing  of  Satin's  illness.  The  girl  had  disappeared  a  fort- 
night before,  and  was  now  gradually  dying  at  the  Lariboisiere 
Hospital,  Madame  Robert  having  put  her  into  such  a  frightful 
state.  As  she  was  ordering  the  carriage  to  go  and  see  the  little 
baggage  once  more,  Zoe  had  quietly  given  her  a  week's  notice  to 
leave.  That  threw  her  into  despair.  It  seemed  as  though  she  was 
losing  one  of  her  family;  and  she  implored  Zoe  to  remain.  The 
latter,  highly  flattered  by  madame's  grief,  ended  by  kissing  her, 
to  show  that  there  was  no  ill-feeling  at  parting.  She  was  obliged 
to  go;  the  heart  was  silent  when  business  was  in  question.  But 
that  was  a  day  of  worries.  Nana,  thoroughly  disgusted,  no  longer 
thinking  of  going  out,  was  wandering  about  her  parlour,  when 
Labordette,  who  had  come  to  tell  her  of  some  magnificent  lace 
to  be  had  at  a  bargain,  mentioned  between  two  other  phrases  about 
nothing  at  all  that  George  was  dead.  She  turned  icy  cold. 

"Zizi!    dead!"  she  cried. 

And  her  glance,  by  an  involuntary  movement,  sought  the  pink 


c 


NANA 

stain  on  the  carpet.  But  it  had  vanished  at  last;  the  footsteps 
had  worn  it  away.  Labordette,  however,  gave  her  some  particulars. 
One  did  not  know  exactly  how  it  had  happened:  some  talked  of 
a  wound  having  opened,  others  told  the  story  of  a  suicide  —  a 
plunge  into  one  of  the  fountains  at  Les  Fondettes.  Nana  kept 
repeating, 

"Dead!  dead!" 

Then  she  burst  into  sobs,  and  relieved  her  feelings  pent  up 
since  the  morning.  It  was  an  infinite  sadness  —  something  pro- 
found and  immense  which  overwhelmed  her.  Labordette  hav- 
ing tried  to  console  her  about  George,  she  waved  her  hand  to  make 
him  desist,  and  said  in  broken  tones, 

"  It's  not  only  him,  it's  all,  it's  everything.  I'm  very  unhappy, 
Oh!  I  know!  they'll  again  say  that  I'm  an  abominable  woman. 
That  mother  who  is  weeping  there,  and  that  poor  man  who  was 
moaning  this  morning  at  my  door,  and  the  others  who  are  all 
ruined,  after  having  squandered  their  sous  with  me.  That's 
right,  give  it  to  Nana,  give  it  to  the  beast!  Oh!  I've  a  broad 
back,  I  can  hear  them  as  though  I  was  there.  That  dirty  strum- 
pet who  entices  everyone;  who  clears  out  some,  and  kills  the 
others;  who  causes  pain  to  no  end  of  people  — " 

She  was  forced  to  interrupt  herself;  suffocated  by  her  tears, 
she  had  fallen  in  her  anguish  across  a  sofa,  with  her  head  buried 
in  a  cushion.  The  misfortunes  she  felt  around  her,  those  miseries 
that  she  had  caused,  enveloped  her  in  a  warm  and  continuous 
flow  of  sensibility;  and  her  voice  became  lost  in  the  plaintive 
accents  of  a  little  girl. 

"Oh!  I  suffer  —  oh!  I  suffer.  I  cannot,  it's  stifling  me.  It's  too 
hard  not  to  be  understood,  to  see  everyone  put  themselves  against 
you,  because  they're  the  strongest.  Yet,  when  one  has  nothing 
to  reproach  oneself  with,  when  one  has  a  free  conscience  —  well, 
no!  well,  no  — " 

Her  anger  changed  to  indignation.  She  got  up,  wiped  her 
eyes,  and  paced  agitatedly  about  the  room. 

"Well,  no!  they  may  say  what  they  like,  it  isn't  my  fault! 
Am  I  cruel?  I  give  all  I  have  —  I  wouldn't  hurt  a  fly.  It's 
they;  yes,  it's  they!  I  never  wanted  to  be  unpleasant  to  any 
of  them.  And  they  were  always  hanging  about  my  skirts, 
and  now  they  croak,  or  beg,  and  all  pretend  to  be  in  de- 
spair." 


NANA 

Then,  stopping  in  front  of  Labordette,  and  tapping  him  on  the 
shoulders,  she  continued, 

"Come  now,  you  were  there,  speak  the  truth.  Was  it  I  who 
led  them  on?  Weren't  there  always  a  dozen  exerting  themselves 
to  invent  something  more  abominable  than  the  others?  They 
disgusted  me!  I  held  myself  aloof  so  as  not  to  follow  in  their 
wake,  I  was  afraid.  Here's  an  instance  —  they  all  wanted  to 
marry  me.  A  nice  idea!  Eh!  yes,  my  dear  fellow,  I  might  have 
been  twenty  times  a  baroness  or  a  countess  if  I  had  consented. 
Well!  I  refused,  because  I  was  reasonable.  Ah!  I  preserved  them 
from  many  detestable  actions  and  many  crimes!  They  would  have 
stolen,  murdered,  killed  father  and  mother.  I  had  but  to  say  a 
word,  and  I  didn't  say  it.  To-day,  you  see  my  reward.  It's 
like  that  Daguenet  whom  I  got  married  —  a  half-starved  wretch 
whose  position  I  made,  after  keeping  him  for  nothing  for  weeks 
together.  Yesterday,  I  met  him;  he  turned  away  his  head. 
Well!  go  to  the  devil,  pig!  I'm  not  so  foul  as  you  are!" 

She  was  walking  about  again;  she  violently  banged  her  fist 
down  on  a  small  round  table. 

"Damn  it  all!  it's  not  just!  Society  is  badly  constructed. 
The  women  are  abused,  when  it's  the  men  who  are  entirely  to  blame, 
they  expect  such  things.  Listen!  I  can  tell  you  now  —  in  all 
I've  ever  had  to  do  with  men,  well!  I  never  had  the  least  pleasure 
—  no,  not  the  least.  They  always  bored  me,  on  my  word  of 
honour!  So,  I  ask  you  now  if  there's  any  fault  of  mine  in  all 
this?  Ah,  yes!  they  almost  badgered  me  out  of  my  life!  Without 
them,  my  dear  fellow,  and  what  they've  made  me,  I  should  be 
now  in  a  convent  praying,  for  I've  always  been  religious.  And, 
hang  'em!  after  all,  if  they  have  left  their  money  and  their  skin, 
it's  their  own  fault!  I've  nothing  to  do  with  it!" 

"Of  course,"  said  Labordette,  convinced. 

Zoe  ushered  in  Mignon.  Nana  received  him  smiling;  she  had 
had  a  good  cry,  but  now  it  was  over.  He  complimented  her  on 
her  abode,  still  warmed  with  enthusiasm;  but  she  soon  let  him 
see  that  she  had  had  enough  of  her  mansion.  Now  she  was  dream- 
ing of  something  else  —  she  would  get  rid  of  it  all,  one  fine  day. 
Then,  as  he  mentioned  as  a  pretext  for  his  visit  a  benefit 
performance  to  be  given  for  old  Bosc,  who  was  tied  to  his  chair  by 
an  attack  of  paralysis,  she  expressed  a  great  deal  of  sorrow,  and 
took  two  boxes.  Zoe,  however,  having  said  that  the  carriage  was 

1:3923 


NANA 

waiting,  she  asked  for  her  bonnet;  and  as  she  tied  the  strings,  she 
related  the  story  of  poor  Satin's  mishap,  then  added: 

"I'm  off  to  the  hospital.  No  one  ever  loved  me  as  she  did. 
Ah!  one  is  quite  right  in  accusing  men  of  having  no  hearts!  Who 
knows?  she's  perhaps  dead  already.  All  the  same,  I  shall  ask 
to  see  her.  I  must  kiss  her  once  more." 

Labordette  and  Mignon  smiled.  She  was  no  longer  sad,  she 
smiled  also,  for  those  two  did  not  count,  they  could  understand. 
And  they  both  admired  her,  in  a  thoughtful  silence,  as  she  finished 
buttoning  her  gloves.  She  alone  stood  erect,  in  the  midst  of  the 
piled-up  wealth  of  her  mansion,  with  a  crowd  of  men  trampled 
beneath  her  feet.  Like  those  antique  monsters  whose  dreaded 
domain  was  covered  with  bones,  she  trod  on  skulls,  and  catastrophe 
surrounded  her:  Vandeuvres's  furious  conflagration;  the  melan- 
choly of  Foucarmont,  drowned  in  the  China  seas;  the  collapse  of 
Steiner,  now  forced  to  live  as  an  honest  man;  the  satisfied  im- 
becility of  La  Faloise,  and  the  tragical  downfall  of  the  Muffats; 
and  George's  white  corpse  watched  over  by  Philippe,  discharged 
from  prison  the  day  before.  Her  work  of  ruin  and  death  was 
accomplished,  the  fly  that  had  taken  its  flight  from  the  filth  of 
the  slums,  carrying  with  it  the  ferment  of  social  decay,  had  poisoned 
those  men  merely  by  touching  them.  It  was  good,  it  was  just; 
she  had  avenged  her  people,  the  rogues  and  the  vagabonds  from 
whom  she  sprang.  And  whilst  in  a  halo  her  sex  ascended  and  shone 
on  her  scattered  victims  like  a  rising  sun  lighting  up  a  field  of 
carnage,  she  retained  her  unconsciousness  of  a  superb  beast, 
ignorant  of  her  work,  always  good-natured.  She  remained  big 
and  plump,  with  beautiful  health  and  unalloyed  gaiety.  But  all 
that  no  longer  counted.  Her  mansion  seemed  to  her  idiotic  —  it 
was  so  small,  and  full  of  a  heap  of  furniture  which  was  always 
in  her  way.  A  mere  nothing,  she  only  wanted  to  commence 
again.  She  dreamed,  too,  of  something  better;  and  she  went  / 
off  in  a  gorgeous  costume  to  kiss  Satin  a  last  time  —  clean,  solid, 
looking  quite  new,  as  though  she  had  never  been  in  use. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

NANA  abruptly  disappeared  —  another  plunge,  a  wild  prank, 
a  flight  into  strange  lands.  Before  her  departure  she 
procured  herself  the  emotion  of  a  sale  by  auction,  sweeping 
everything  off  —  the  mansion,  the  furniture,  the  jewellery,  and 
even  the  dresses  and  the  linen.  Figures  were  quoted.  The  five 
days  produced  more  than  six  hundred  thousand  francs.  For  a 
last  time  Paris  had  seen  her  in  a  fairy  piece,  "Melusine,"  at  the 
Gaiety  Theatre,  that  Bordenave  had  audaciously  taken  without 
a  sou.  She  was  there  with  PruIIiere  and  Fontan.  Her  part 
was  a  dumb  one,  all  show,  but  a  real  hit  —  three  plastic  postures 
of  a  powerful  and  silent  fairy.  Then  in  the  midst  of  this  great 
success,  when  Bordenave,  advertising-mad,  was  covering  Paris 
with  colossal  posters,  it  was  stated  one  fine  morning  that  the 
night  before  she  had  left  for  Cairo  —  a  simple  discussion  with 
her  manager,  a  word  that  had  not  pleased  her,  the  caprice  of  a 
woman  too  rich  to  allow  herself  to  be  annoyed.  Besides,  it  was 
a  fad  of  hers.  For  a  long  time  past  she  had  longed  to  go  and  see 
the  Turks. 

Months  passed  by.  She  was  forgotten.  Whenever  her  name 
was  mentioned  amongst  her  friends,  the  strangest  stories  circulated. 
Each  gave  contrary  and  prodigious  information.  She  had  cap- 
tivated the  viceroy;  she  reigned  in  the  innermost  recesses  of  a 
palace,  over  two  hundred  slaves,  whose  heads  she  cut  off  to  make 
her  laugh.  Not  at  all.  She  had  ruined  herself  with  a  big  negro 
—  a  filthy  infatuation  which  had  left  her  without  a  chemise,  in 
the  midst  of  the  crapulous  debauchery  of  Cairo.  A  fortnight 
later  there  was  universal  astonishment.  Some  one  swore  he  had 
met  her  in  Russia.  A  legend  gradually  developed.  She  was 
the  mistress  of  a  prince;  her  diamonds  were  talked  about.  All 
the  women  were  soon  acquainted  with  them,  through  the  descrip- 
tions that  were  current,  without  any  one  being  able  to  give  their 
source  —  rings,  bracelets,  earrings,  a  diamond  necklace  as  broad 
as  two  fingers,  and  a  queenly  diadem  surmounted  by  a  central 


NANA 

brilliant  as  big  as  one's  thumb.  In  the  unknown  of  these  far-off 
lands,  she  assumed  the  mysterious  radiance  of  an  idol  covered 
with  precious  stones.  Now,  she  was  only  mentioned  gravely, 
with  the  pensive  respect  for  that  fortune  made  amongst  the  bar- 
barians. 

One  July  evening  towards  eight  o'clock,  Lucy,  who  was  driv- 
ing down  the  Rue  du  Faubourg-Saint-Honore,  caught  sight  of 
Caroline  Hequet,  who  had  gone  out  on  foot  to  give  an  order  to 
a  tradesman  of  the  neighbourhood.  She  called  to  her,  and  at 
once  said, 

"Have  you  dined?  are  you  free?  Oh,  then,  my  dear!  come  with 
me.  Nana  has  returned!" 

The  other,  on  hearing  this,  at  once  got  into  the  carriage,  and 
Lucy  continued, 

"And  you  know,  my  dear,  she  is  perhaps  dead  whilst  we  are 
talking." 

"Dead!  what  an  idea!"  cried  Caroline  in  amazement.  "And 
where?  and  of  what?" 

"At  the  Grand  Hotel,  of  the  small-pox  —  oh!  quite  a  story!" 

Lucy  had  told  her  coachman  to  drive  quick.  So,  as  the  horses 
rapidly  trotted  along  the  Rue  Royale  and  the  Boulevards,  she 
related  the  story  of  Nana's  adventure,  in  broken  sentences,  and 
without  once  taking  breath. 

"You  can't  imagine.  Nana  arrives  from  Russia,  I  forget 
why  —  a  row  with  her  prince.  She  leaves  her  luggage  at  the 
station  and  goes  off  to  her  aunt.  You  recollect  that  old  woman? 
Good!  She  finds  her  baby  ill  with  the  small-pox.  The  baby  dies 
on  the  morrow,  and  she  has  a  row  with  the  aunt  about  the  money 
she  ought  to  have  sent,  and  which  the  other  had  never  seen  a 
sou  of.  It  seems  the  child  died  of  that  —  in  short,  the  child  was 
not  well  fed  or  looked  after.  Very  well,  Nana  goes  off,  puts  up 
at  a  hotel,  then  meets  Mignon,  just  as  she  was  thinking  of  fetching 
her  luggage.  She  becomes  very  peculiar,  she  has  the  shivers, 
wants  to  be  sick,  and  Mignon  takes  her  to  her  room,  promising 
to  look  after  her  affairs.  Eh!  isn't  it  funny,  isn't  it  strange?  But 
here's  the  best  part.  Rose  hears  of  Nana's  illness,  is  indignant 
at  learning  that  she's  all  alone  in  an  out-of-the-way  place,  and 
weepingly  hastens  to  nurse  her.  You  recollect  how  they  detested 
each  other?  a  couple  of  furies!  Well!  my  dear,  Rose  had  Nana 
removed  to  the  Grand  Hotel,  so  that  she  might  at  least  die  in 

C395H 


NANA 

a  swell  place;  and  she's  already  passed  three  nights  with  her, 
and  may  very  likely  die  of  it  afterwards.  It's  Labordette  who 
told  me  all  this,  so  I  wanted  to  see  - 

"Yes,  yes,"  interrupted  Caroline,  greatly  excited.     "We  will 

go." 

They  had  arrived.  On  the  Boulevard  the  coachman  had  been 
obliged  to  pull  up  in  the  midst  of  a  block  of  vehicles  and  foot 
passengers.  During  the  day  the  Corps  Legislatif  had  voted  for 
a  declaration  of  war.  A  crowd  poured  down  from  all  the  side 
streets  and  covered  the  footpaths  and  the  roadway.  At  the 
Madeleine  end  the  sun  had  set  behind  a  blood-red  cloud,  the 
fiery  reflection  of  which  illuminated  the  tall  windows.  Twilight 
was  coming  on,  a  dull  and  melancholy  hour,  with  the  darkening 
avenues,  which  the  gas-lamps  had  not  yet  lit  up  with  their  bright 
specks.  And  amongst  this  mass  of  people  on  the  march  distant 
voices  became  louder,  pale  faces  sparkled  with  animated  glances, 
whilst  a  deep  breath  of  anguish  and  of  spreading  stupor  turned 
all  heads. 

"There's  Mignon,"  said  Lucy.    "He  will  give  us  some  news." 

Mignon  was  standing  under  the  vast  portico  of  the  Grand 
Hotel,  with  a  nervous  air  about  him  as  he  watched  the  crowd. 
At  the  first  questions  Lucy  put  to  him,  he  flew  into  a  passion, 
exclaiming, 

"I  don't  know!  For  the  last  two  days  I've  not  been  able  to 
get  Rose  away  from  up  there.  It's  idiotic  for  her  to  risk  her 
skin  like  that!  She'll  look  nice,  if  she  catches  it,  with  scars  all 
over  her  face!  It  will  suit  us  nicely." 

The  idea  that  Rose  might  lose  her  beauty  exasperated  him. 
He  would  leave  Nana  just  as  she  was,  not  understanding  those 
silly  devotions  which  women  went  in  for.  But  here  Fauchery 
crossed  the  Boulevard,  and  when  he  had  joined  the  others,  he 
also  anxiously  asked  for  news,  and  then  the  two  men  tried  to 
incite  each  other  to  go  up.  They  were  most  affectionate  to  one 
another  now. 

"Always  the  same,  little  *un,"  observed  Mignon.  "You  ought 
to  go  up  and  force  her  to  come  away." 

"Really!  You're  kind,  you  are!"  said  the  journalist.  "Why 
don't  you  go  up  yourself?" 

Then,  as  Lucy  inquired  the  number  of  the  room,  they  both 
implored  her  to  induce  Rose  to  come  down;  otherwise  it  would 

£396  3 


NANA 

end  by  their  getting  angry.  Lucy  and  Caroline,  however,  did 
not  go  up  at  once.  They  had  caught  sight  of  Fontan  strolling 
along  with  his  hands  in  his  pockets,  highly  amused  by  the  dif- 
ferent faces  in  the  crowd.  When  he  learnt  that  Nana  was  up- 
stairs ill,  he  remarked  with  a  great  display  of  feeling, 

"Poor  girl!  I  will  go  and  shake  hands  with  her.  What's  the 
matter  with  her?" 

"Small-pox,"  replied  Mignon. 

The  actor  had  already  taken  a  step  in  the  direction  of  the  court- 
yard, but  he  retraced  it,  and  with  a  shiver  simply  murmured, 
"Ah,  the  deuce!" 

It  was  no  joke  catching  small-pox.  Fontan  had  nearly  had  it 
when  he  was  five  years  old.  Mignon  related  the  story  of  one  of 
his  nieces  who  had  died  of  it.  As  for  Fauchery,  he  could  talk  of 
it,  for  he  still  bore  the  marks  —  three  spots,  which  he  showed  to 
the  others,  close  to  his  nose;  and  as  Mignon  pressed  him  again 
to  go  up,  on  the  pretext  that  people  never  had  it  twice,  he  violently 
disputed  that  theory.  He  instanced  cases,  and  called  the  doctors 
fools.  But  Lucy  and  Caroline,  surprised  at  the  vast  increase  of 
the  crowd,  interrupted  them. 

" Look  there!  look  there!    What  a  mob  of  people!" 

The  night  was  advancing,  the  lamps  in  the  distance  were  being 
lighted  one  by  one.  One  could,  however,  distinguish  spectators 
at  the  windows;  whilst  under  the  trees  the  human  tide  swelled 
every  minute,  in  one  long  stream,  from  the  Madeleine  to  the 
Bastille.  The  vehicles  rolled  slowly  along.  A  kind  of  buzz  arose 
from  that  compact  mass,  dumb  as  yet,  assembled  together  in 
the  idle  desire  of  forming  a  crowd,  stamping,  and  excited  with 
the  same  fever.  But  a  huge  commotion  caused  the  crowd  to  fall 
back.  In  the  midst  of  all  the  jostling,  passing  through  the  groups 
that  made  way  for  them,  a  band  of  men  in  caps  and  white  blouses 
appeared,  uttering  this  cry,  to  the  time  of  hammers  beating  on 
the  anvil, 

"To  Berlin!  to  Berlin!  to  Berlin!" 

And  the  crowd  looked  on  with  a  gloomy  distrust,  already 
attracted,  nevertheless,  and  stirred  with  visions  of  heroic  deeds, 
the  same  as  when  a  military  band  passes  by. 

"Yes,  yes;  go  and  get  your  heads  broken!"  murmured  Mignon, 
seized  with  a  philosophic  fit. 

But  Fontan  thought  it  very  grand.  He  talked  of  enlisting. 

C3973 


NANA 

When  the  enemy  was  at  the  frontier  all  citizens  ought  to  rise 
in  arms  to  defend  the  fatherland,  and  he  assumed  a  posture 
worthy  of  Bonaparte  at  Austerlitz. 

"Well,  are  you  going  up  with  us?"  asked  Lucy  of  him. 

"Ah,  no!"  said  he,  "not  to  get  ill!" 

On  one  of  the  seats  in  front  of  the  Grand  Hotel  sat  a  man, 
hiding  his  face  in  his  handkerchief.  Fauchery,  on  arriving,  had 
drawn  Mignon's  attention  to  him  with  a  wink.  So  he  was  always 
there?  Yes,  he  was  always  there;  and  the  journalist  stopped 
the  two  women  to  point  him  out  to  them.  As  he  raised  his  head 
they  recognised  him,  and  uttered  a  slight  exclamation.  It  was 
Count  MufFat,  who  glanced  upwards  at  one  of  the  windows. 

"You  know  he's  been  there  ever  since  this  morning,"  related 
Mignon.  "  I  saw  him  at  six  o'clock,  he  has  scarcely  moved  since. 
At  the  first  words  Labordette  uttered,  he  came  and  posted  him- 
self there,  with  his  handkerchief  over  his  face.  Every  half  hour 
he  crawls  as  far  as  here,  to  inquire  if  the  person  upstairs  is 
better,  and  then  returns  to  his  seat.  Well!  you  know,  it's  not 
healthy,  that  room.  One  may  love  people  without  wishing  to 
croak." 

The  count,  with  upturned  eyes,  did  not  appear  to  be  aware  of 
what  was  going  on  around  him.  No  doubt  he  was  ignorant  of 
the  declaration  of  war  —  he  neither  felt  nor  heard  the  crowd. 

"Look!"  said  Fauchery,  "here  he  comes;  now  just  watch  him." 

The  count  had  indeed  quitted  his  seat,  and  had  entered  under 
the  lofty  doorway;  but  the  doorkeeper,  who  by  this  time  had 
become  accustomed  to  him,  did  not  give  him  time  to  repeat  his 
question.  He  said  abruptly, 

"Sir,  she  died  just  a  minute  ago." 

Nana  dead!  It  was  a  blow  for  all  of  them.  Muffat,  without 
a  word,  returned  to  the  seat,  his  face  buried  in  his  handkerchief. 
The  others  cried  out,  but  their  voices  were  abruptly  drowned,  as 
another  crowd  passed  along  yelling, 

"To  Berlin!    to  Berlin!  to  Berlin!" 

Nana  dead!  Was  it  possible?  such  a  fine  girl!  Mignon  sighed 
with  relief;  Rose  would  at  last  come  down.  There  ensued  a 
coolness.  Fontan,  who  was  longing  for  a  tragic  part,  assumed  an 
expression  of  grief,  his  mouth  drawn  down,  his  eyes  turned  up 
to  the  lids;  whilst  Fauchery,  really  affected  in  spite  of  his  journal- 
istic affectation  of  ridiculing  everything,  nervously  champed  his 


NANA 

cigar.  The  two  women,  however,  could  not  suppress  their  ex- 
clamations. The  last  time  that  Lucy  had  seen  her  was  at  the 
Gaiety  Theatre,  Blanche  also,  in  "Melusine."  Oh!  she  was  grand, 
my  dear,  when  she  appeared  in  the  midst  of  the  crystal  grotto! 
The  gentlemen  recollected  very  well.  Fontan  played  Prince 
Cocorico.  And,  their  memories  awakened,  they  launched  forth 
into  interminable  details.  Eh!  in  the  crystal  grotto,  was  she  not 
just  fine  with  her  rich  nature?  She  did  not  say  a  word;  the  authors 
had  even  struck  out  a  cue,  because  it  interfered.  No,  nothing  at 
all,  it  was  far  grander;  and  she  electrified  the  audience  merely 
by  showing  herself.  A  form  such  as  one  will  never  see  again  — 
such  shoulders,  such  legs  and  such  a  waist!  How  queer  that  she 
should  be  dead!  You  know  that  over  her  tights  she  simply  wore 
a  golden  sash  round  the  hips,  which  was  scarcely  sufficient.  Around 
her,  the  grotto,  all  in  glass,  sparkled;  there  were  cascades  of  dia- 
monds, and  strings  of  pearls  trickled  down  amongst  the  stalactites 
of  the  roof;  and  in  that  transparency,  in  that  pellucid  spring, 
intersected  by  a  broad  ray  of  electric  light,  she  appeared  like  a 
sun,  with  her  skin  and  her  hair  of  fire.  Paris  would  ever  see  her 
thus,  beaming  in  the  midst  of  the  crystal,  poised  in  the  air  like 
a  goddess.  No,  it  was  too  stupid  to  allow  oneself  to  die  in  such 
a  position!  Now,  she  must  be  a  pretty  sight  up  there! 

"And  what  pleasure  wasted!"  said  Mignon  in  the  melancholy 
voice  of  a  man  who  does  not  like  to  see  good  and  useful  things  cast 
away. 

He  sounded  Lucy  and  Caroline  to  know  if  they  still  had  the 
intention  of  going  upstairs.  Most  certainly  they  were  going  up; 
their  curiosity  had  increased.  Just  then  Blanche  arrived  all  out 
of  breath,  and  exasperated  with  the  crowd  which  blocked  all  the 
footpaths;  and  when  she  learnt  the  news,  the  exclamations 
recommenced.  The  ladies  moved  towards  the  staircase,  making 
a  great  noise  with  their  skirts.  Mignon  followed  them,  calling  out, 

"Tell  Rose  I'm  waiting  for  her.    At  once,  please." 

"One  doesn't  know  for  certain  whether  the  contagion  is  most 
to  be  feared  at  the  commencement  or  towards  the  end,"  Fontan 
was  explaining  to  Fauchery.  "A  house-surgeon  I  know  even 
assured  me  that  the  hours  which  follow  death  are  most  especially 
dangerous.  Miasmata  are  expelled  from  the  corpse.  Ah!  I 
regret  this  sudden  end.  I  should  have  been  so  glad  to  have 
shaken  her  hand  a  last  time." 


NANA 

"What  good  would  it  do  now?"  asked  the  journalist. 

"Yes,  what  good?"  repeated  the  other  two. 

The  crowd  continued  to  increase.  In  the  flood  of  light  from 
the  shops,  beneath  the  dancing  sheets  of  flaring  gas,  one  could 
distinguish  a  sea  of  hats  drifting  in  a  double  current  along  the 
footpaths.  At  this  time  the  fever  was  passing  from  one  to  another. 
People  joined  the  bands  in  blouses;  a  continuous  pushing  swept 
the  roadway;  and  the  cry  returned,  issuing  from  every  throat, 
jerky  and  obstinate, 

"To  Berlin!   to  Berlin!   to  Berlin!" 

Upstairs,  on  the  fourth  floor,  the  room  cost  twelve  francs  a 
day,  Rose  having  desired  something  decent,  without  being  luxurious, 
however;  for  one  does  not  want  luxury  when  suffering.  Hung  in 
Louis  XIII.  cretonne,  with  large  flowers,  the  room  contained  the 
mahogany  furniture  peculiar  to  all  hotels,  and  a  red  carpet  sprinkled 
with  black  foliage.  A  heavy  silence  reigned  there,  broken  only 
by  a  whisper,  when  voices  resounded  in  the  corridor. 

"I  tell  you  we've  lost  our  way.  The  waiter  told  us  to  turn 
to  the  right.  What  a  barrack!" 

"Wait  a  minute  —  let's  see.     Room  401,  room  401  - 

"Here!  this  way  —  405,  403.  This  must  be  it.  Ah!  at  last, 
401!  Come,  hush!  hush!" 

The  voices  ceased.  There  was  a  slight  coughing,  then  a  momen- 
tary pause,  and  the  door  opened  slowly,  admitting  Lucy,  followed 
by  Caroline  and  Blanche.  But  they  halted;  there  were  already 
five  women  in  the  room.  Gaga  was  stretched  out  in  the  only 
easy-chair  —  one  in  red  velvet.  Simone  and  Clarisse,  standing 
in  front  of  the  fire-place,  were  conversing  with  Lea  de  Horn, 
seated  on  a  chair;  whilst  before  the  bed,  to  the  left  of  the  door, 
Rose  Mignon,  leaning  against  the  woodwork  of  the  foot,  was 
looking  fixedly  at  the  corpse,  lost  in  the  shadow  of  the  curtains. 
All  the  others  had  their  bonnets  and  gloves  on,  like  ladies  out 
visiting;  she  only  had  bare  hands,  and  her  hair  in  disorder,  her 
face  pale  with  the  fatigue  of  three  nights  of  nursing.  And  there 
she  stood,  feeling  stupid,  with  her  features  swollen  from  weeping, 
in  the  presence  of  that  so  sudden  death.  On  the  corner  of  the 
chest  of  drawers,  a  lamp  with  a  shade  lighted  up  Gaga  with  a 
brilliant  flood  of  light. 

"Ah!  what  a  misfortune!"  murmured  Lucy,  as  she  squeezed 
Rose's  hand.  "We  wanted  to  bid  her  good-bye." 

C400] 


NANA 

And  she  turned  her  head  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  Nana,  but  the 
lamp  was  too  far  off,  and  she  did  not  like  to  move  it  nearer. 
On  the  bed  a  grey  mass  lay  stretched  out  —  one  could  only  dis- 
tinguish the  golden  chignon,  and  a  palish-looking  spot  which 
was  probably  the  face.  Lucy  added: 

"I  have  never  seen  her  since  she  was  at  the  Gaiety  Theatre, 
in  the  grotto." 

Then  Rose,  shaking  off  her  torpor,  smiled  and  said,  "Ah 
she  is  altered  —  she  is  altered!" 

And  she  returned  to  her  contemplation,  without  a  gesture, 
without  a  word.  Perhaps  they  would  be  able  to  look  at  her  by- 
and-by;  and  the  three  women  joined  the  others  in  front  of  the 
fire-place.  Simone  and  Clarisse  were  talking,  in  an  under-tone, 
about  the  deceased's  diamonds.  Now,  did  they  really  exist, 
those  diamonds?  No  one  had  seen  them,  it  was  probably  all  bosh. 
But  Lea  de  Horn  knew  someone  who  was  acquainted  with  them; 
oh!  some  monstrous  stones!  Besides,  that  wasn't  all,  she  had 
brought  heaps  of  other  riches  from  Russia  —  embroidered  stuffs, 
precious  knick-knacks,  a  service  of  gold  plate,  and  even  furniture; 
yes,  my  dear,  fifty-two  articles,  some  enormous  cases,  sufficient 
to  load  three  luggage  vans.  It  was  all  at  the  station.  Ah!  she 
had  no  luck,  to  die  without  even  having  time  to  unpack  her  things; 
and  bear  in  mind  that  she  had  also  some  sous  besides  all  these, 
something  like  a  million.  Lucy  inquired  who  would  inherit  it  all. 
Some  distant  relatives,  the  aunt  very  likely.  A  fine  windfall  for 
that  old  woman.  She  knew  nothing  yet;  the  invalid  obstinately 
refused  to  have  her  informed,  bearing  her  some  ill-will  for  the 
death  of  her  youngster.  Then  they  all  pitied  the  little  fellow,  as 
they  recollected  having  seen  him  at  the  races  —  a  baby  full  of 
disease,  and  who  looked  so  sad  and  so  old;  in  short,  one  of  those 
poor  brats  who  never  wanted  to  be  born. 

"He  is  far  happier  in  his  grave,"  said  Blanche. 

"Bah!  and  she  also,"  added  Caroline.  "Life  isn't  so  pleasant 
after  all." 

Gloomy  ideas  possessed  them,  in  the  severity  of  that  chamber 
of  death.  They  were  afraid,  it  was  stupid  to  remain  talking 
there  so  long;  but  a  desire  to  see  kept  them  rooted  to  the  carpet. 
It  was  very  warm,  the  lamp-glass  shone  on  the  ceiling  like  a 
moon,  in  the  damp  shadow  which  filled  the  apartment.  Under 
the  bed  a  soup  plate  full  of  some  disinfectant  exhaled  a  most 


NANA 

unsavoury  odour.  And  now  and  again  a  slight  breath  of  air 
swelled  the  curtains  of  the  window,  opened  on  to  the  Boulevard, 
from  whence  arose  a  dull  murmuring  sound. 

"Did  she  suffer  much?"  asked  Lucy,  who  had  been  absorbed 
in  the  group  above  the  clock  —  the  three  Graces,  naked,  and 
smiling  like  opera  dancers.  Gaga  appeared  to  wake  up. 

"Ah!  yes,  she  did!  I  was  there  when  she  passed  away.  I 
can  tell  you  that  there  is  nothing  beautiful  in  it.  She  was  seized 
with  a  shivering  fit  — 

But  she  could  not  continue  her  explanation.  A  cry  arose  — 
"To  Berlin!  to  Berlin!  to  Berlin!" 

And  Lucy,  who  was  stifling,  opened  the  window  wide,  and 
leant  out  on  the  balustrade.  There  it  was  pleasant.  A  delight- 
ful coolness  came  from  the  starry  sky.  On  the  opposite  side  of 
the  way,  windows  were  ablaze  with  light,  whilst  the  reflections 
of  the  gas  danced  among  the  gilded  letters  of  the  signs.  Then 
down  the  street  it  was  very  amusing.  One  could  see  the  currents 
of  the  crowd  roll  like  a  torrent  along  the  footpaths  and  the 
roadway,  in  the  midst  of  a  block  of  vehicles  and  large  moving 
shadows,  among  which  the  lights  of  the  shops  and  of  the  street 
lamps  sparkled.  But  the  band,  that  now  approached  with  loud 
shouts,  carried  torches.  A  ray  of  red  light  came  from  the  direction 
of  the  Madeleine,  dividing  the  mob  with  a  trail  of  fire,  spreading 
afar  over  the  heads  like  the  reflection  of  a  conflagration.  Lucy, 
forgetting  where  she  was,  called  to  Blanche  and  Caroline,  exclaim- 
ing, 

"Come  quick!    You  can  see  very  well  from  here." 

All  three  leant  out,  greatly  interested.  The  trees  interfered 
with  their  view.  At  times  the  torches  disappeared  beneath  the 
foliage.  They  tried  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  the  gentlemen  waiting 
below,  but  the  projection  of  a  balcony  hid  the  hotel  entrance, 
and  they  could  only  distinguish  Count  Muffat,  still  huddled  up 
on  the  seat  like  a  dark  bundle,  his  face  buried  in  his  handker- 
chief. A  carriage  had  stopped,  and  Lucy  recognised  Maria  Blond, 
another  one  who  was  hastening  there.  She  was  not  alone,  a  stout 
man  got  out  after  her. 

"Why,  it's  that  thief  Steiner,"  said  Caroline.  "What!  hasn't 
he  been  packed  back  to  Cologne  yet?  I  shall  like  to  see  how  he 
looks  when  he  comes  in." 

They  turned  round,  but  at  the  expiration  of  ten  minutes, 

C402] 


NANA 

when  Maria  Blond  appeared,  after  having  twice  mistaken  the 
staircase,  she  was  alone;  and  as  Lucy  questioned  her  with  sur- 
prise, she  exclaimed, 

"He!  ah,  my  dear!  you  made  a  mistake  if  you  thought  he  was 
coming  up!  It's  even  wonderful  for  him  that  he  came  as  far  as 
the  door  with  me.  There's  about  a  dozen  of  them  downstairs, 
all  smoking  cigars." 

In  truth,  all  those  gentlemen  were  there.  Come  for  a  stroll, 
just  to  see  what  was  going  on  on  the  Boulevards,  they  had  met 
together,  and  launched  forth  exclamations  on  the  poor  girl's 
death.  Then  they  lapsed  into  politics  and  strategy.  Bordenave, 
Daguenet,  Labordette,  PruIIiere,  and  others  had  swelled  the 
group;  and  they  were  listening  to  Fontan,  who  was  explaining 
his  plan  of  campaign  for  capturing  Berlin  in  five  days. 

However,  Maria  Blond,  seized  with  compassion  before  the  bed, 
was  murmuring  as  the  others  had  done,  "Poor  dear!  the  last 
time  I  saw  her  was  at  the  Gaiety  Theatre,  in  the  grotto." 

"Ah!  she  is  altered  —  she  is  altered!"  repeated  Rose  Mignon, 
with  her  smile  of  dull  grief. 

Two  more  women  arrived:  Tatan  N£ne  and  Louise  Violaine. 
They  had  been  wandering  about  the  hotel  for  quite  twenty 
minutes,  sent  from  waiter  to  waiter.  They  had  gone  up  and  down 
more  than  thirty  flights  of  stairs,  in  the  midst  of  a  host  of  travellers 
who  were  flying  from  Paris,  in  the  panic  caused  by  the  declaration 
of  war  and  the  commotion  on  the  Boulevards.  So,  immediately 
on  entering  the  room  they  sank  into  some  chairs,  too  fatigued  to 
think  of  the  deceased.  Just  then,  a  great  noise  was  heard  in  the 
next  apartment;  there  was  a  moving  of  trunks,  a  knocking  about 
of  furniture,  mingled  with  a  sound  of  voices  uttering  barbarous 
accents.  The  room  was  occupied  by  a  young  Austrian  couple. 
Gaga  related  that,  during  the  death  agony,  the  pair  had  played 
at  running  after  each  other;  and  as  there  was  a  door  between  the 
two  rooms,  one  could  hear  them  laughing  and  kissing,  each  time 
one  of  them  was  caught. 

"Well,  I  must  be  off,"  said  Clarisse.  "We  can't  bring  her  to 
life  again.  Are  you  coming,  Simone?" 

They  all  glanced  at  the  bed,  without  stirring.  Yet  they  were 
getting  ready  to  leave,  they  gently  smoothed  down  their  skirts. 
At  the  window  Lucy  was  again  leaning  out,  but  alone.  A  sad- 
ness brought  a  lump  to  her  throat,  as  though  a  profound  melan- 

[403:1 


NANA 

choly  arose  from  that  yelling  mob  beneath.  Torches  continued 
to  pass,  casting  flakes  of  fire  around;  in  the  distance  the  various 
bands,  huddled  together  in  the  darkness,  looked  like  flocks  of 
sheep  driven  at  night-time  to  the  slaughter-house;  and  all  that 
giddiness,  those  confused  masses  surging  like  the  ocean,  exhaled 
a  terror,  a  great  pity  for  coming  massacres.  They  banished  dull 
care,  their  shouts  burst  out  in  the  intoxication  of  their  fever 
rushing  against  the  unknown,  far  away  in  the  distance,  behind 
the  dark  boundary  of  the  horizon. 

"To  Berlin!   to  Berlin!   to  Berlin!" 

Lucy  turned  round,  her  back  against  the  balustrade  of  the 
window,  and  looking  very  pale,  exclaimed,  "Good  heavens! 
what  will  become  of  us?" 

The  other  women  shook  their  heads.  They  were  very  grave, 
and  full  of  anxiety  about  what  was  happening. 

"I,"  said  Caroline  Hequet  in  her  sedate  way;  "Pm  off  to 
London  the  day  after  to-morrow.  Mamma  is  already  there  pre- 
paring a  house  for  me.  I'm  certainly  not  going  to  stop  in  Paris 
to  be  massacred." 

Her  mother,  like  a  prudent  woman,  had  invested  all  her  money 
abroad.  One  never  knows  how  a  war  may  end.  But  Maria 
Blond  flew  into  a  passion.  She  was  patriotic;  she  talked  of 
following  the  army. 

"There's  a  runaway  for  you!  Yes,  if  they  would  let  me,  I 
would  dress  up  as  a  man  and  go  and  shoot  those  Prussian  pigs! 
And  if  we  were  all  to  croak,  what  next?  A  pretty  thing  our 
bodies  are!" 

Blanche  de  Sivry  was  exasperated. 

"Don't  speak  against  the  Prussians!  They  are  men  like  the 
others,  and  are  not  for  ever  bothering  women  like  your  French- 
men. They've  just  expelled  the  little  Prussian  who  was  with  me 
—  a  fellow  awfully  rich  and  gentle  as  a  lamb  —  incapable  of 
hurting  any  one.  It's  a  disgrace;  it'll  ruin  me.  And,  do 
you  know,  if  I'm  bothered  too  much,  I'll  go  and  join  him  in 
Germany!" 

Then,  whilst  each  had  her  say,  Gaga  murmured  in  a  doleful 
voice, 

"It's  the  end;  I've  no  luck.  Only  a  week  ago,  I  paid  the  last 
instalment  for  my  little  house  at  Juvisy.  Ah!  heaven  knows  what 
trouble  it  cost  me!  Lili  had  to  help  me.  And  now  war's  declared. 


NANA 

The  Prussians  will  come;  they'll  burn  everything.  How  can  I 
commence  all  over  again  at  my  age?" 

"Of  course,"  added  Simone.  "It  will  be  funny.  Perhaps  on 
the  contrary,  we  shall  do  — " 

And  she  completed  her  thought  with  a  smile.  Tatan  Nene 
and  Louise  Violaine  were  of  the  same  opinion.  The  first  one 
related  that  she  had  had  some  jolly  times  with  soldiers  —  oh! 
delightful  fellows  who  would  do  anything  for  a  woman.  But 
having  raised  their  voices  too  high,  Rose  Mignon,  still  leaning 
against  the  woodwork  at  the  foot  of  the  bed,  made  them  leave 
off  with  a  gentle  "hush!"  They  were  startled,  and  glanced 
sideways  towards  the  corpse,  as  though  that  request  for  silence 
had  issued  from  the  very  shadow  of  the  curtains;  and  in  the 
heavy  quiet  that  prevailed  —  that  quiet  of  nothingness  in  which 
they  were  conscious  of  the  rigidity  of  the  corpse  stretched  out 
near  them  —  the  shouts  of  the  mob  burst  out  again, 

"To  Berlin!   to  Berlin!   to  Berlin!" 

But  they  soon  forgot  their  fright.  Lea  de  Horn,  who  had  a 
political  salon,  where  some  of  Louis-Philippe's  ex-ministers  in- 
dulged in  smart  epigrams,  resumed  in  a  low  voice,  as  she  shrugged 
her  shoulders, 

"What  a  mistake,  this  war!  what  awful  stupidity!" 

Then  Lucy  at  once  defended  the  empire.  She  had  been  kept 
by  one  of  the  imperial  princes;  for  her  it  was  a  family 
matter. 

"Nonsense,  my  dear;  we  couldn't  allow  ourselves  to  be  in- 
sulted any  longer.  This  war  is  the  honour  of  France.  Oh!  you 
know,  I  don't  say  that  because  of  the  prince.  He  was  so  stingy ! 
Just  fancy,  every  night  he  hid  his  louis  in  his  boots,  and  whenever 
we  played  at  bezique  he  used  beans,  because  one  day  I  seized  the 
stakes,  just  for  a  joke.  But  that  doesn't  prevent  my  being  just. 
The  Emperor  was  in  the  right." 

Lea  wagged  her  head  with  an  air  of  superiority,  like  a  woman 
who  repeats  the  opinions  of  eminent  personages.  And,  raising 
her  voice,  she  added: 

"It's  the  end.  They're  all  mad  at  the  Tuileries.  France 
ought  to  have  sent  them  to  the  right  about  yesterday  rather 
than  — " 

The  others  violently  interrupted  her.  She  was  cracked.  What 
was  the  matter  with  her?  What  had  the  Emperor  ever  done  to 

£405] 


NANA 

her?  Wasn't  everyone  happy?  Wasn't  business  in  a  flourishing 
state?  Paris  could  never  be  livelier.  Gaga  flew  into  a  passion, 
roused  with  indignation. 

"Shut  up!  it's  idiotic!  you  don't  know  what  you're  saying! 
I  lived  in  Louis-Philippe's  time,  an  epoch  of  toast  and  water  and 
sordidness,  my  dear.  And  then  came  '48.  Ah!  a  fine  thing,  a 
disgusting  time,  their  Republic!  After  February  I  was  actually 
starving,  I  tell  you!  But  if  you  had  passed  through  all  that,  you 
would  fall  on  your  knees  before  the  Emperor,  for  he's  been  our 
father,  yes,  our  father." 

They  had  to  calm  her.  Then  she  resumed  in  a  religious  out- 
burst, "O  God!  give  the  Emperor  the  victory.  Preserve  us  the 
Empire!" 

All  repeated  the  prayer.  Blanche  admitted  that  she  burnt 
candles  for  the  Emperor.  Caroline,  full  of  a  religious  feeling, 
had  for  two  months  past  gone  everywhere  that  she  was  likely  to 
come  across  him,  without  succeeding  in  attracting  his  notice. 
And  the  others  broke  out  into  furious  tirades  against  the  Re- 
publicans, talked  of  expelling  them  beyond  the  frontier,  so  that 
Napoleon  III.,  after  vanquishing  the  enemy,  might  reign  peace- 
fully, in  the  midst  of  the  universal  joy. 

"That  beast  Bismarck  —  there's  a  scoundrel  for  you!"  observed 
Maria  Blond. 

"To  think  that  I  once  knew  him!"  cried  Simone.  "If  I 
had  only  known,  I  would  have  put  some  poison  in  his  glass." 

But  Blanche,  still  feeling  aggrieved  at  the  expulsion  of  her 
Prussian,  dared  to  take  Bismarck's  part.  He  wasn't  a  bit  wicked. 
Each  one  had  his  own  duties.  She  added, 

"You  know,  he  adores  women." 

"What's  that  to  us?"  said  Clarisse.  "You  don't  think  we  want 
him,  do  you?" 

"There  are  always  too  many  men  like  him,"  gravely  declared 
Louise  Violaine.  "We  had  better  do  without  them  altogether 
than  have  any  acquaintance  with  such  monsters." 

And  the  discussion  continued.  They  pulled  Bismarck  to 
pieces,  each  one  gave  him  a  kick  in  her  Bonapartist  zeal,  whilst 
Tatan  Nene  said  in  a  vexed  manner, 

"Bismarck!  How  they  used  to  tease  me  about  him!  Oh! 
I  owe  him  a  grudge.  I  had  never  heard  of  him,  that  Bismarck! 
One  can't  know  every  one." 

C4063 


NANA 

"All  the  same,"  said  Lea  de  Horn  conclusively,  "that  Bis- 
marck's going  to  give  us  a  good  hiding  — " 

She  was  unable  to  continue.  The  other  women  all  flew  at  her. 
Eh?  what?  —  a  hiding?  It  was  Bismarck  who  was  going  to  be 
sent  back  home,  with  kicks  behind.  She  had  better  shut  up, 
she  was  unworthy  to  be  a  Frenchwoman! 

"Hush I"  whispered  Rose  Mignon,  feeling  hurt  at  such  a  noise. 

The  frigidity  of  the  corpse  again  impressed  them.  They  all 
ceased  talking,  uneasy  and  brought  anew  face  to  face  with  death, 
with  the  secret  dread  of  evil.  On  the  Boulevard  the  cry  passed, 
hoarse  and  rending, 

"To  Berlin!   to  Berlin!   to  Berlin!" 

Then,  just  as  they  were  making  up  their  minds  to  leave,  a 
voice  called  from  the  corridor, 

"Rose!  Rose!" 

Gaga,  surprised,  opened  the  door  and  disappeared  for  a  moment. 
Then,  when  she  returned,  she  said, 

"  My  dear,  it's  Fauchery  who  is  there  at  the  end  of  the  passage. 
He  won't  come  any  nearer.  He  is  in  an  awful  state  because  you 
persist  in  remaining  here  with  the  body." 

Mignon  had  succeeded  in  inciting  the  journalist.  Lucy,  still 
at  the  window,  leant  out;  and  she  caught  sight  of  the  gentlemen 
waiting  on  the  pavement,  looking  up  and  making  signs  to  her. 
Mignon,  exasperated,  was  holding  up  his  fists.  Steiner,  Fontan, 
Bordenave,  and  the  others  were  opening  their  arms  in  an  anxious 
and  reproachful  way;  whilst  Daguenet,  so  as  not  to  compromise 
himself,  was  quietly  smoking  his  cigar,  his  hands  behind  his  back. 

"I  was  forgetting,  my  dear,"  said  Lucy,  leaving  the  window 
open.  "  I  promised  to  make  you  go  down.  They're  all  beckoning 
for  us." 

Rose  moved  away  painfully  from  the  foot  of  the  bedstead. 
She  murmured,  "I  will  go  down;  I  will  go  down.  She  no  longer 
wants  me  nowt  We  will  send  for  a  sister  of  charity." 

And  she  looked  about  without  being  able  to  find  her  bonnet 
and  shawl.  She  mechanically  filled  a  basin  with  water  at  the 
wash-stand  and  washed  her  hands  and  face,  as  she  continued. 

"I  don't  know  how  it  is,  but  it's  been  a  great  shock  to  me. 
We  were  not  very  nice  to  each  other.  Well!  now  I  feel  quite 
stupid.  Oh!  I've  all  sorts  of  ideas  — a  longing  to  die  myself  — 
the  end  of  the  world.  Yes,  I  want  some  fresh  air." 

£407] 


NANA 

The  dead  body  was  beginning  to  fill  the  room  with  a  fearful 
stench.  There  was  quite  a  panic  after  such  a  long  period  of  un- 
concern. 

"Let's  be  off!  let's  be  off,  my  dears!"  repeated  Gaga.  "It 
isn't  healthy." 

They  left  the  room  quickly,  throwing  another  glance  towards 
the  bed;  but  as  Lucy,  Blanche,  and  Caroline  were  still  there, 
Rose  gave  a  last  look  round  to  see  that  all  was  tidy.  She  drew 
the  curtain  before  the  window.  Then  she  thought  that  the 
lamp  was  not  proper,  there  ought  to  be  a  candle;  and,  after 
taking  one  of  the  brass  candlesticks  from  the  mantelpiece,  she 
lit  the  candle,  and  placed  it  on  the  night-table  beside  the  corpse. 
A  bright  light  suddenly  illuminated  the  face  of  the  deceased.  It 
was  horrible.  They  shuddered,  and  hastened  away. 

"Ah!  she  is  altered  —  she  is  altered!"  murmured  Rose  Mignon, 
who  was  the  last  to  leave  the  room. 

She  went  off  and  closed  the  door.  Nana  was  left  alone,  her 
face  turned  upwards  in  the  candle-light.  It  was  a  charnel-house, 
a  mass  of  matter  and  blood,  a  shovelful  of  putrid  flesh,  thrown 
there  on  the  cushion.  The  pustules  had  invaded  the  entire  face, 
one  touching  the  other;  and,  faded,  sunk  in,  with  the  greyish 
aspect  of  mud,  they  already  seemed  like  a  mouldiness  of  the  earth 
on  that  shapeless  pulp,  in  which  the  features  were  no  longer 
recognisable.  One  of  the  eyes,  the  left  one,  had  completely  dis- 
appeared amidst  the  eruption  of  the  purulence;  the  other,  half 
open,  looked  like  a  black  and  tainted  hole.  The  nose  still  continued 
to  suppurate.  A  reddish  crust  starting  from  one  of  the  cheeks, 
invaded  the  mouth,  which  it  distorted  in  an  abominable  laugh; 
and  on  this  horrible  and  grotesque  mask  of  nothingness,  the  hair, 
that  beautiful  hair,  retaining  its  sun-like  fire,  fell  in  a  stream  of 
gold.  Venus  was  decomposing.  It  seemed  as  if  the  virus  gathered 
by  her  in  the  gutters,  from  the  tolerated  carrion  —  that  ferment 
with  which  she  had  poisoned  a  people  —  had  ascended  to  her 
face  and  rotted  it. 

The  room  was  deserted.  A  strong  breath  of  despair  mounted 
from  the  Boulevard,  and  swelled  the  curtain. 

"To  Berlin!  to  Berlin!  to  Berlin!" 


C  408;] 


/ 


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